BOOK II: A Padawan's Ode To Innocence
by FarmerBill
Summary: She begged for forgiveness from the Force. She begged for deliverance. She begged for the lives of the people she loved. The Force didn't answer her. Book III out now.
1. Prologue

_**"Twilight swelling, moonlight breaking, from the wounds winding like vipers in the sky, let this be all I ever see…" – Ode to Innocence, Aaron McMullan**_

_There was a certain grace to failing – a beauty in the stumbling of the untouchable. Like watching a tree struck by lighting flare into flame, brilliant but terrible. _

_That was what her Master strove to teach her, time after time, when her failures built up and frustrated her, and made her want to cry and rage at herself for being so weak. That to err was to be human – that it showed she was growing and learning._

_But surrounded by the bodies of her closest friends, next to a stranger who had put all of his trust in her, feeling the life fading from all of them – she couldn't help but think about all the mistakes she had made to get to where she was. And she begged for forgiveness from the Force. She begged for deliverance. She begged for the lives of the people she loved._

_The Force didn't answer her._


	2. Chapter 1

Plo Koon could feel his Padawan's restlessness as palpably as he could feel the shift in air temperature as they stepped into the artificial cool of the throne room. Security was admittedly not in a Jedi's job description – but Bail Organa was a very important man, and after a series of particularly serious death threats, it appeared that the Jedi would be the best choice to protect the pacifist senator. As such, it was his and his Padawan's most high-profile mission thus far.

Her nervousness was understandable – but not appropriate.

"Peace, Raiko." He admonished in a murmur, as they were met by a pair of security – notably without weaponry, but for a light weight baton attached to their waists. Alderaan hadn't always been a pacifist nation – but Plo admired their dedication to their current values.

Raiko had visibly stilled, hand falling away from her silver neck chain with its empty pendant clasp, to rest by her side. Her emotions were not so successful in calming – but Plo noted with a certain degree of pride, that she was able to stifle them slightly, shield herself from him. Unfortunately, he did know her well enough by now – had formed a bond with her – to know exactly how she was feeling. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

"No-!" she said quickly, too quickly. Plo's smile was hidden behind his mask. "I'm not… nervous." The hitch in her emotions gave her away. Plo moved slightly closer to his apprentice, not touching her, but near enough that she could pick up on his own tightly controlled Force aura. Her gratefulness panged over their connection. It was sometimes too indulgent of him, to give into his Padawan's inherit need for comfort – whether physical or emotional – but his soft spot for her grew near daily. She was an incorrigible charmer, and as playful as she was disarming. Plo hadn't known any Arcturians before – but he knew that they tended to be more… docile than she was. At any rate – she was amiable, and when she channelled her energies into something, she would give it her all. It was just a matter of him directing her dynamisms.

They stopped in front of a small door, red and wooden, hidden off to the side of the great hall. A small gold plaque held the name of the man they were there for. One of the guards knocked for them. "The Jedi are here, senator."

There was a muffled reply, and the guard nodded to them, opening the door and ushering them in.

Bail Organa was sitting behind his large desk but managed to not be swamped by the immensity of the thing, nor the piles of flimsi building up on either side. He was tall for a human, dark haired and classically handsome – but looked tired, holding it in the thin set of his mouth. "Master Koon, and Padawan Omari. I must admit, it brings me more than a little relief to have you here." Koon's eyes followed Bail's gaze towards the portrait on his desk. His wife, the Queen, was smiling out from the frame – looking resplendent in a wedding gown. His Padawan had also noticed his concerned look.

"We will keep you _and _your wife safe, Senator. Have no fear." Raiko said confidently, offering a smile.

"Just until I finish implementing the amendment to the anti-military ban." Bail nodded, offering them a tired smile. "Then hopefully, I'll stop getting such charming threats."

"We'll do our best to keep out of the way, Senator." Plo integrated smoothly. He knew that having a pair of armed Jedi following around the very man who stood for peace wasn't a good look – and might add to the fire. From what security officers had gathered from the threats – Bail's proposal to amend the anti-military ban would affect the owners of personal weapons, and what constituted as a personal weapon. Whilst weapons were not outrightly banned on Alderaan, they were discouraged, and clearly the notion of banning large weaponry that could be used in a military format was… distasteful to some. Whether it was one person, or a whole party of protestors – it remained to be seen. The language used in the threats wasn't conclusive.

"That would be… appreciated. Well, I'll have someone show you to your quarters. I have a meeting with the democratic council first thing tomorrow, so I suppose I'll see you then."

Plo had seen the man in the Senate, had watched him argue for peace, stand by law with steadfast and almost cold determination. The man behind the desk seemed… peaceful in comparison, warmed, perhaps, by his home planet. Plo bowed as he left, Raiko copying his movement.

_Hopefully this went quickly._

* * *

Their quarters was open, no door or window to the large balcony that looked out onto the city beyond the borders of the palace. Everything seemed to be designed as such; light, and airy and open. Raiko claimed the bed in the open plan room that served as their dining room and living room. Plo – rather happily, she thought – went to the room beyond the door. He valued his privacy a lot more than she did, they both knew.

_Ah well._

The nineteen-year-old flopped back onto the bed's cushions, watching as the breeze from outside stirred the gauzy curtains around her bed.

_He was missing out on the view._

Alderaan _was_ beautiful, and Raiko was reminded of the pretty, flowing architecture of Naboo, combined with Arcturia's white domed houses. It was uniform – yet organic.

"The Gingerbell Blossom Fesitval begins tonight." Raiko looked around to her master, who was standing in his doorway.

Raiko sighed slightly. "I know, it sounds like it will be beautiful." She said longingly.

Plo Koon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. "It might aid the investigation to go and mingle with the people, find out if anyone shares our man's opinions." Raiko stared at him. He definitely chuckled then. "I hope you brought civilian clothing."

Raiko let out a little squeak of joy. "Yes! Thank you, Master!" she was up and off the bed, waltzing over to her small bag of clothing. Her Master liked to pretend to be coolly removed, but he was kind – and he knew her fascination with other cultures. "What will you do, Master?"

Plo had already sat down on the chaise, and looked about a minute away from actually reclining. "I will… investigate here." Raiko raised an eyebrow as he pulled out his holopad, bringing up the novel he was half-way through. "As soon as I finish this chapter." He amended. Raiko hid her smile in digging through her bag, pulling out a wad of green fabric.

The green dress was from Naboo, sent to her from the ex-handmaid of the Queen. Muri Leod was an Arcturian who had served as a handmaid to Padme during her time as sovereign, and the first Arcturian Raiko had met. They still kept in touch, their relationship shifting from one of motherly affection, to a true friendship as Raiko grew older. Last she had heard from Muri, she was happily married to an Arcturi man, living in Bhāsā with him and his family.

She had to wear a vest with the floaty thing, if only to conceal her belt and lightsaber hilt, tucked tightly to her side. It was freeing to be out of the elongated, thick robes mandated by the Jedi – even if the skirt was a little long and heavy for her taste, swirling just above her ankles. When she was older, when she became a Jedi knight – she would _not_ be wearing robes on missions. Pinning her padawan braid up into her main braid, she flounced back into the room. "Well?" she asked, Plo Koon looking up to regard her.

"Like a tourist." He nodded approvingly.

"Perfect. I'll let you know if I find anything, Master." Raiko waved goodbye to the engrossed Jedi, and made her way out of the confusing palace.

She couldn't blame her Master for indulging in a little leisure time – the planet was peaceful, and though the threats had been graphic and a little disturbing, neither she nor her Master could sense any real danger here. The people greeted her as she made her way down into the main town, friendly and smiling – no animosity in their faces or hearts. It had a calming effect on her as well.

Perhaps that was why she was so surprised by the chaos that erupted.

Raiko had been laughing – dancing, spinning like a top – blossoms in her hair from a passing woman handing out flower crowns. She was dizzy on the sweet scent of gingerbell, the pinkish flower's perfume heavy in the air. The dancefloor had been erected around a large bushel of the flowers, the sunlight's last rays turning everything gold. The surrounding buildings and streets were covered in the blooms, making it look almost like a snowfall had occurred. The night had seemed endless, full of constant joys and new surprises every hour.

She had smiled comfortingly at a small girl who had been covering her ears – anticipating the loud bursts from the fireworks. Raiko had gasped in awe at the intricate displays in the night sky, how the glittering sparks had seemed to form flowers of their own. She had been distracted – and that was why it had taken her a moment too long to realise that the screams coming from the other end of the huge square were ones of terror – not joy – pain and fear rippling through the Force around her. It took her far too long to feel the next shockwave as the next explosion ripped through the building behind her.

Raiko crumpled on the stone, thrown off her feet by the burst of energy from the explosion that had triggered the raging firestorm currently swallowing the buildings on two sides of the square. Breathless, wheezing through the pain in her chest, she looked around wildly. She couldn't spot the little girl in the chaos.

The square had erupted in bedlam, disordered stampedes of people trying to escape the flames, trying to get out of the square. Raiko only just managed to get to her feet before she was bowled over again, elbow coming down hard against the cobblestones. She hissed out a low breath of pain, and from her position, almost touching the ground with her cheek, she was able to see down an alley-way on the opposite side of the square. A figure was standing, almost motionless, immune to the pandemonium in front of them. Their face was in shadow, and Raiko felt a prick of unease, straightening slowly. Reaching out, expanding her awareness, she tried to brush against the Force signature of the figure.

_Cold._

An icy cold wall hit her, and Raiko recoiled, physically – backing into a man and stumbling. When she looked up, the figure was gone – swallowed into the crowds of people hurrying out of the square. Raiko turned her attention to the buildings on fire. She avoided looking at the piles of rubble from the initial explosions.

She could feel people inside – fear making their consciousnesses scream. Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the door of the nearest block. The heat hit her as she opened the door, the sudden rush of oxygen making the flames flare briefly, before she was able to shoulder her way inside. In the stairwell, the air was thick with smoke, heat making her eyes dry.


	3. Chapter 2

His internal beratement kept up a continuous monologue as he sat in the back seat of the emergency shuttle.

_Foolish. _

He had been foolish to let his guard down, he had been foolish to assume that the threats were fake, he had been foolish to let his Padawan out on her own.

_"-Set down in the square, and begin immediate fire response and rescue."_ The pilot said into the radio, signalling the rest of the small fleet of multipurpose shuttles. Plo Koon was out of his seat before they had even touched down, taking a leap out of the shuttle, and landing lightly on his feet. His eyes searched the square, mostly emptied, but for some wounded and the brave, who had stayed to help. The emergency response teams were efficient, moving amongst the civilians with speed. Already, hydrocannons were spraying water onto the burning buildings – but Plo could see that the buildings on the end of the square were too far gone to be salvaged.

He couldn't see Raiko. Searching the faces of the people on the ground, he couldn't see his Padawan's wide eyes or shock of purple hair anywhere. Closing his eyes, and setting aside his growing worry, he searched for her force signature, that bright, warm spot – the sunshine that was his padawan.

He turned impulsively, following the energy. Opening his eyes – he felt his panic spike at the sight of the flaming buildings that his Padawan must have been in. He felt her signature waver at his attention, pressing, and calling – and he grew aware of the other lives that were gathered around her. "Officer." He called to the nearest fire fighter. He turned, soot already blackening his tanned skin – he looked afraid, and Plo pushed some soothing energy towards him. "There are still people in those buildings."

"Sir, those buildings are about to collapse – whoever's in there is either dead or about to be." He spoke with the shocked apathy of a man who had never seen violence, in complete denial about what was happening. Unfortunately, Plo had neither the patience nor the time to console him – and so his next words were an angry bark.

"Officer, you _will_ focus your attentions on those buildings – and you _will_ do it now!" Plo didn't wait for a response, jogging towards the buildings himself and leaving the man behind. He could hear the man stutter into action, radioing his fellow firefighters, and directing them towards the buildings. The buildings themselves were a twin set of apartment blocks, tall and wide, with balconies that were burning and cracking under the heat. The officer had been right – the building's foundations were weakening and there wasn't much time before it would collapse. His mask protected his eyes from the immense heat, but even his thicker skin wasn't immune to the temperature of the fire. He searched for Raiko again, locating her near the exit. Her energy was fading – and Plo sent out encouragement – feeling her move again, slowly, but towards him. He lifted his saber from his belt, igniting it as he neared the front doors. He would have to cut through the heavy immovable doors to let them out – but even as he ignited his blue saber, he heard a low groan, and the building began to rumble.

The hyrdocannons were pouring onto the buildings, but he knew it was useless. He shot out a warning to his padawan, as the rumbling got louder, the building shaking as it began to fold in on itself. There was nothing in response, and Plo swayed back in horror, turning away slightly at the sight of the destruction. A deep grief pulled at his heart, and he had to pull away from everything – slipping into himself slightly to quiet his feelings.

But through the flicker of dying flames, and smoke and ash that was beginning to obscure and coat everything in grey, he saw it. A glow of purest white.

"_They're still alive!"_

_"Civilians at the building sight!"_

_"We need med-evac now – all medics deploy-"_

Plo lurched forwards involuntarily, towards the white light, and the signs of life. Around him, officers were springing into action, moving around him, with him, but he spared no thought for the civilians staggering from the collapsed building, coughing and wheezing, some with weeping burns, others being supported, dragging their exhausted feet.

At the back of the pack, still inside where the entrance way had been, holding both her lightsaber and the pocket of the building aloft with nothing more than determination and the Force – Raiko Omari was standing. One arm she still had braced physically on the sizzling wood of the building, the Force working around her to hold up the rest of the building that she had sheltered herself and the occupants in. She was trembling, staring almost unseeingly. The scent of burning flesh was heavy in the air, and Plo's stomach turned at the amount of burnt skin he could see under the coat of grey soot that was covering her.

"Raiko – everyone is out." He said gently, picking his way around a chunk of rubble and ashy wood. She looked to him, lightsaber shaking with her own tremors. "Raiko, come here." He beckoned her closer, and she went slowly, clearly on the verge of collapse. Miraculously, the remains kept standing, shivering under his gaze, as if living. "Let go. Raiko, let _go._" She did, and with a last crashing, creaking groan, the last of the structure settled and broke, ash billowing into the air. Raiko collapsed into him, and he held her up, trying to avoid her blistering skin.

"Master." Her voice was a hoarse choke. "I didn't… I didn't know – its _my _fault-"

Plo hushed her, waving over a medic, who took Raiko into his own hands, beginning emergency bacta treatment as he watched. Plo sat heavily onto a pile of debris, breathing a deep breath as he surveyed the scene. It was nearly day-break, and in the grey light of the very early morning, the whole thing looked too terrible to be real – as if it were a scene from a holomovie, staged in its dire horribleness. He closed his eyes.

_He was a fool to have been so complacent. _

* * *

Raiko awoke two days later, still aching and tired, despite the bacta-bath and the solid 48 hours of sleep. But she didn't have time to lick her wounds – both physical and mental – because there was raw fear and panic in the minds of those around her, the medical staff twitchy, and whispering in low voices – about the terrorist group claiming responsibility for the attacks. That was all Raiko needed to hear to push herself up out of the cot, and stumble her way through the palace corridors, in a hospital gown and barefeet, following the force signature of her master.

He was in Organa's office, and she didn't knock – opening the door with a shove that pulled painfully at the still healing burns on her arms. The three occupants in the office all turned to look at her, the two humans with identical surprised expressions. Her Master's face, as usual was unreadable under his mask. But his energy was more childing than surprised, so she assumed that he had sensed her coming. "Padawan Omari." The senator spoke first, the woman next to him smiling bemusedly. "I'm glad to see that you're… up and about."

"My apologies." She bowed her head slightly. "I just- well, I heard that a group had claimed responsibility for the attack." Her Master took a step towards her, aura turning wary and warning. She didn't understand what he was trying to convey, though – and avoided his approach, stepping back into the two humans' line of sight. "I would like to know if we've made any headway with detainment, or-"

"My royal guard are doing everything they can, assisting the local Peace Corps with the investigation, Padawan." The woman's casual use of the possessive pronoun didn't escape Raiko's notice, and she realised with horror, that she was speaking to the Queen of Alderaan. "I assure you, when there are developments, the Jedi will be the first to know."

Raiko bowed fully, bending at the waist a full ninety-degrees. "My apologies, your grace – I didn't mean to insinuate complacency or offend you, I am just… concerned." Raiko straightened as the Queen nodded, a faint smile playing around her mouth. Plo's hand fell onto her shoulder – and very clearly, as if he had said the words aloud – he projected his faint reprimand. _That's enough now._

"I think I should take my Padawan back to the med-bay. I'm sure she's still a little rattled from her treatment." He bowed to the royal pair, Raiko following suit. "We're on hand to assist in any way, My Lady, and Ambassador." They nodded in dismissal, and Plo steered Raiko out of the room. He didn't stop moving, keeping a rapid pace through the halls – though Raiko was surprised to realise that they weren't heading towards the med-bay, and instead going to their quarters. He held the door open for her, sweeping in behind her and locking the door behind himself.

Raiko waited in the centre of the room, aware of her growing discomfort, need for a shower and faint pain from her burns. But Plo didn't keep her waiting long, turning to face her with his arms folded. "You were impulsive and reckless – and not just today. You could have been killed in the fire."

Raiko had expected to be scolded for her irrationality in the royal chambers – but not for her actions during the festival. She frowned. "Master – I saved people. Isn't that what we're here for?"

"We're here to protect the Ambassador – your actions were foolish and thoughtless, and the loss of your life may have sparked a dangerous feud." Plo sighed. "You might not see it, Raiko – but the Jedi hold a very precarious position of intermediation – the death of one of our own at the hands of a terrorist group, could be seen as both a call to war for darker parties and as a blow to the Republic." Raiko blinked. She hadn't known how thin the line between war and peace had been recently. "The Council has sensed a darker power growing for quite some time. That is why we are here. We need to ensure the Republic has allies."

"So, this isn't just a bodyguard position." Raiko summarized slowly, something heavy and uncomfortable settling in her gut. Her Master just nodded. "But the people – surely they're worth saving? Or does the Republic not care about civilian life anymore?"

Plo shifted in place, and she felt discomfort radiating from him, realising he wasn't any happier with their situation than she was. "The Council, and the Republic… advised me to keep the alliance at the fore-front of the mission. Anything else is… secondary as of now."

Raiko clenched her jaw, huffing a furious breath through her teeth. "That goes against… _everything_."

"I know, young one. I know." Plo was silent after that, taking a seat at the balcony and watching the landscape outside unseeingly, leaving Raiko to shower and get dressed. As the sun began to set, she joined him, tucking her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms tightly around herself. The patches of burns were shiny and angry looking, tinged green with her blood so close to the surface. She wondered idly if they would scar.

_As if she needed anything to remind her of the fire…_


	4. Chapter 3

_She dreamed about it._

_She dreamed in burning reds and amber – grey, stifling smoke and painful grasping hands. The hands of the people she'd been unable to save; the boy in the bathtub, his sister still faintly stirred under a towel beside him, the woman clutching her baby, the man with his hands around his own throat as he choked on smoke. They kept dragging her back, into the flaming maw of the building. _

_Ahead, she could see safety, the exit glowing with the pure white of her lightsaber._

_But she couldn't move, every step making her sink deeper into the flaming rubble, every inch impeded by grasping, dead hands, weighed down by her own sins and failures. _

_And then – through it all, just as scorching – a sudden, all-consuming ice. Cold biting at her with the same intensity of the fire, and the exit was suddenly obscured by a dark figure, and though she couldn't make out any discerning features – she could see its mouth, curled into a sharp and sickening smile. The slam as the door was shut was loud enough to make the walls shake, even more ash falling into her vision, as the fire licked up the walls and over the exit, the dead dragging her down. _

_She could still feel it – just out of reach – the ice, even as the flames consumed her. _

* * *

Raiko awoke in a cold sweat, to the pounding on their door.

It took her a second to regain her composure, Plo emerging from his room as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her breathing. He didn't spare her a look as he hurried to the door, still in his robes. He opened the door, exchanging quiet words with the guard on the other side. It was still before dawn – the sky in the obstinate yellow-grey stage of morning. Raiko ducked into the fresher, splashing water on her face and scrubbing at her skin, trying to get the stench of burning flesh and smoke out of her nostrils. She could feel her Master through the door, and stilled as he knocked once, gently. "Are you alright, Raiko?"

"Y-yeah." She stuttered slightly, and rolled her eyes at herself. She could feel him now, prodding at her Force signature, and hastily, she erected a barrier of confidence – a projection of normality. "Yes, I'm fine."

Plo was silent for a moment more. Then finally, she could feel him retreat. "They've captured two of the group – and they're refusing to talk to the police."

Raiko stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, the bags underneath them almost the same purple as her irises. Her markings just looked stark and harsh against her skin. She looked tired and on edge. Unintimidating, unprofessional. She closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath. Slowly, she gathered her awareness of the Force around her, allowing the constancy of it to soothe her, building a small pocket of peace in her mind.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

Opening her eyes again, she could visibly see the change. Already, her bags were disappearing, her cheeks flushing slightly with life again, the drawn look to her face fading somewhat under the calming influence of the Force. Raiko struggled with inner-peace the most. It was almost cheating – to use the Force so much in order to find her inner-peace, but she found she couldn't achieve it any other way. She didn't have the self-belief and discipline of Obi-Wan or her Master, who could find peace in an instant, without drawing so much on the Force. She was too passionate, she knew it. She often struggled to abide by the very first line of the Jedi Code; _There is no emotion, there is peace._

She felt a surplus of emotion, every day – and to her, peace wasn't just a state of mind – it was a full-body experience that was an effort to achieve. Every day, she tried to quiet her emotions, to think with her head, not her heart. Most days, she failed.

She opened the fresher door, Plo still standing outside. She attempted a smile. "We'd better get down there then, Master."

Plo tilted his head, and said nothing. She didn't let it phase her, instead turning her back on him as she pulled on her outer robes. "Very well." He said finally. "Lead the way, my Padawan."

* * *

It was the same artificial cool in the prison block as it was in the throne room.

Raiko drew her robe closer to herself as they headed past rows of empty cells and towards the interrogation room. Crime was very low – as the had been told by the chief of police – the most use the cells got was holding drunkards until morning. The two were separated into different rooms, across the hall from each other, and Raiko slipped in beside her Master as he filed into the viewing room with the Chief of police. A few other men were gathered, two in the Royal Guard uniform and one more in a police uniform.

"We nabbed 'em this morning, trying to buy out the rest of the ammunition in the weapons supplier. I guess they weren't too bothered with being careful after the bombing." The policeman said in greeting, nodding to Plo and Raiko. Raiko bowed her head in return.

"Probably figured we'd be too scared to touch them." The taller Royal Guard muttered, lip twisting into a sneer as he glared at the man behind the glass in front of them. "Serves 'em right, the street rats. Lucky we got them when we did. Now all the trouble will be over." Raiko frowned at his confidence. They hadn't even gotten a confession from either party, or any confirmation that they were in fact _guilty._

Raiko looked at the man sitting behind the glass. He was average height, fair-skinned and filthy – like he'd been working in a mine. He looked alert – but his eyes held no real malice, only anger. Gently, she sent out a question in the Force, probing his outward aura. He was fuming, outraged – but more than a little scared. This she wondered about. Beside her, Plo was reading through the initial arrest report, fingers tapping on the back of the holopad. She knew he was thinking about something – perhaps even searching the man like she was.

"Master, may I go observe the other detainee? If it's alright with the station master, of course." She asked, smiling respectfully and more than a little charmingly at the police chief. He seemed a little taken aback, and she read – with a little disgust – a sudden flare of appreciation for her physical appearance in his Force projection.

But his greasy smile was approval enough, and she turned to Plo. He nodded once, turning to fix her with an eyeless stare, that was no less intimidating even with his mask. "Be careful, Raiko. Don't… push." He said warningly.

Raiko sent him a flare of confidence. Whilst she had trouble with her own emotions, she thought she had a pretty good grasp on other's own internal motivations. But there was always a balance to be observed, where observation could easily turn into perversion, where a simple look could turn into an invasion of privacy. The Force shouldn't be used nefariously, and manipulating and intensively probing another being's emotions fell on the path to the Dark Side.

Raiko slipped into the other observation room, and took in the sight of a thin red-headed woman, with long, drawn features and the same caking of dirt as her associate. Again, her outwards emotions radiated anger, but with the same underlying fear. "What are you afraid of?" Raiko murmured, leaning against the two-way glass. She was nervous, pacing in her cell, eyes continuously darting to the door, body in a defensive position. Raiko lifted her transmitter to her mouth, and connected to Plo. "Master, the woman is just as nervous, if not more, than the man. Something's not right. From what they're claiming and from what the police believe – I think they should be a little more… brazen."

There was a faint crackle and hiss as her Master connected to the private channel. "_I agree, my apprentice. Something is not as it seems. The Guard seem anxious to push a conviction._"

"I think I could get through to her." Raiko said, an idea occurring to her.

"_How so?"_

"Well, I'm not what is expected. I'm not one of the Guard or the police, and I'm not a full-grown Jedi. If I get her to let her guard down a little, maybe I'll get a straight answer." Raiko explained. "I just need some time alone with her." there was silence, but Raiko just waited. Though her Master had a flair for the dramatic pauses, she knew they weren't wasteful, and always filled with careful consideration.

"_I can buy you ten minutes. Good luck." _Their line disconnected after his brief speech.

Raiko nodded to herself, and raised her hands in front of her face. They were steady. Hurriedly, she took off her inner robes, and wrapped her saber in them, tucking them away in a shelf in the small room, before she opened the door to the interrogation room. After the darkness of the observation chamber, the harsh white light of the room was almost blinding, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision as the red-head stilled in the corner of the room, scrambling to get behind the table away from Raiko.

Raiko smiled sheepishly, subtly projecting calming energies into the room. "S-sorry." She said haltingly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Who are you?" the woman spat, narrowing her brown eyes.

"My name's Raiko. You can call me Rai if you like – all my friends do." She took a seat on the hard metal chair, which, like the other chair and the table, was soldered to the floor. She crossed her ankles underneath herself and propped her head on her hand. "What's your name?"

The woman was staring at her, still with narrowed eyes, but Raiko could sense some of her hostility fading into curiosity. "What do you want?"

"I want… the truth." Raiko decided to answer truthfully. "Because you're saying one thing, and they're saying another – and I think we both know that I'm missing something." The woman twitched, and Raiko zeroed in. "Aren't I?"

"Them soldiers, think they're above all the muck and fighting, but then they walk around with them big sticks, and toss us around like animals. They say peace but they just mean docility." She spat suddenly, angrily. She jabbed a finger at the mirror. "I know what they think of me, little, old Jaxxik Ron. I'm just filth. But guess what – filth should be allowed to protect themselves."

"So you aren't opposed to peace, you're opposed to hierarchy?" Raiko asked slowly, trying to sort out what the woman was ranting about. "You don't like the Ambassador."

"The Ambassador an' everyone in that big palace don't care about us – and if someone has to shout to be heard then – so be it." After she said it, her face contorted into a scowl, and she resumed her pacing snapping her mouth shut. Raiko didn't miss the allusion to the terrorist actions.

"So you know who sent the threats? Who deployed the bomb?"

"No!" the woman said quickly – too quickly. At Raiko's hum of disbelief, she rounded on the smaller woman, baring her teeth. "Who do you think you are, huh, Nab-scum?" _Nab-scum_. An old insult that she had only heard a few times before; it was short for Naboo's scum, as in Arcturians were the pond-scum floating on Naboo's surface, the bacteria feeding on the wealth and resources of the Naboo people.

"Someone who is trying to stop you from going to jail for all the wrong reasons." At the mention of jail, the woman paled. Alderaan jails were off-world, on one of their moons, home to some of the worst criminals in the galaxy, due to the lack of actual Alderaanian people occupying space. It wasn't uncommon for prisoners to be transferred there when other jail space was lacking.

"Jail? I ain't done nothing." She said lowly, bringing a hand up to tug at her hair. A flare of warning burst into Raiko's awareness and she rounded on the woman.

"Listen, Jaxxik, I can't help you if you don't give me something. Very soon, the Guard, and the Police are going to come and they'll make you confess." Raiko said, pushing urgency into her tone and into the atmosphere. The woman's eyes widened under the force of it, and Raiko inwardly winced, hoping she hadn't overdone it.

"Look – me and Pue don't know nothin', but I do who might. If I take you to see my boss – will you let me go?" Jaxxik said, a note of desperation in her tone – but Raiko didn't detect any deceit in her voice, and she nodded.

"I'll do what I can. Just – say what you just said when they come in, okay?"

At the sound of the front entrance's lock turning, Raiko sprung up, and held up a finger to her lips. Jaxxik looked from the door to Raiko, and nodded exaggeratedly. Raiko hurried out of the room, closing the observation chamber door shut behind her as the police chief, one of the Guard and her Master walked in. Plo turned directly to the mirror. Raiko gulped down a nervous breath, but nodded. As if he could see her through it, her Master gave a small incline of his head, and as Jaxxik began to ramble, bargaining just as she had suggested, she slipped back out into the corridor, picking up her robes and saber as she went, and holding the bundle to her chest like a child's comfort toy.

_That had been close_.

She closed her eyes, and took another series of breaths, trying to mirror her Master's Yokken breaths he'd been taught in an advanced meditation class with Master Yoda.

The door opened, and Raiko caught a snatch of Jaxxik yelling with a man before the police chief and her Master emerged. The Chief looked incensed. "So, she thinks she can bargain with us? Like we have to listen to street-scum?"

Plo said nothing, but turned his head slightly towards Raiko.

Though faint nausea filled her stomach at the realisation of what she had to do, Raiko squared her shoulders, and stepped towards the Chief, and ran a soothing, slow hand down his arm. "I know, her audacity." She sighed in fake commiseration. The Chief shot her a surprised, appreciative look.

"I'm sorry that the Jedi have to see the uh, undesirables, of our beautiful home." He simpered, folding his arm around her hand where it sat in the crook of his arm.

Raiko giggled lightly, pushing a faint hint of false arousal at the man, and watching in faint horror as his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated almost instantly, his chest puffing out comically. "Oh, sir, it bothers us not." She said sweetly, and began to walk him away from the room, keeping his attention off Plo, who had slipped back into the room, but she could feel his awareness focussed on her. It was a safety blanket as she carefully played on the man's attraction to her. it wasn't the first time she had had to use her physical attributes to her advantage, though it wasn't any less demeaning and humiliating. "What would bother me more would be if your beautiful home was anymore affected by the tragedy… it would ease my spirit to have someone accompany Jaxxik and ensure that she is telling the truth."

"You Force-Sensitives… always so-" here he visibly struggled for a word, and she watched him with carefully neutral face. "Sensitive." He managed after a second and she disguised her scoff with a dainty laugh.

"Yes, we certainly are, sir. Sensitive to every human life, and human… need." She looked up at him through her lashes.

He puffed out his chest again. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to follow up on Jaxxik's claims. At any rate, we'll be able to root out the rat den. The slums have been building up on the southside – the lazy buggers, they don't work, and just create dirt."

Raiko felt a low understanding dawn on her. The South slums would be where the old machine factories used to be, the factories that made weapons and other good now classified as 'illegal', and the barracks of an army made obsolete. As a result of the harsh military ban, many people would have been put out of jobs very suddenly. "As you say." She murmured, enough for the Chief to think she was paying attention as he ordered people around with more aggression than his bulk belied – presumably to impress his alpha status upon her. She stopped listening, instead focussing on keeping his attention as her Master got on board one of the transports with Jaxxik. With Plo en route to the slums – she would have to go the Alderaan labs and pick up the analysis of the bomb fragments and send the results to Plo. No doubt that the evidence might be overlooked in the Chief's zealousness to tidy up the slums at any cost – even if it meant apparently pinning a bombing on them.

Raiko couldn't say she believed that Jaxxik's 'friends' could be responsible for the bombing. For one thing – there'd been no evidence of any slum-dwellers near or around the festival, which seemed to be celebrated by the upper-classes only, and for another, neither Jaxxik or Pue seemed intelligent to be behind a mastermind coordination required to bomb a public square and get away with it.

The more time she spent on Alderaan, the filthier it seemed to become, the outwards perfection marred by corruption of the whole society, which prided itself on its pacifist and generosity.

Raiko slipped away from the Chief, claiming a bathroom emergency, and darting for the exit – and commandeering a nearby speeder.


	5. Chapter 4

Raiko was led through the quiet low-ceilinged halls of the university lab by a meek mild, mannered woman – who was wearing spectacles far too large for her face. She was wearing a student badge, but swiped them into the main research lab with a high-security pass.

"How'd you score that?" Raiko asked her with a smile, as she tucked the lanyard beneath her lab-coat again. Her name-tag read Ardia Wills.

Ardia blinked at her in surprise, and then flushed, looking away. "I-I just… well I suppose I spend a lot of time here." She said nervously. "The Professors trust me with the lab equipment."

"So, you're the best." Raiko summarized, trying to tone down her beam for the shy girl. Ardia made a spluttering sound, turning an even deeper red. Raiko decided to stop her praise, just in case Ardia choked on air.

Ardia pulled out the sample of bomb material, as well as collected dust and ash from the area. Raiko swore she smelt smoke again, and took a steadying breath through her mouth. Ardia looked at her out of the corner of her eye as she set up the holoprojector. "Th-thank you." She said quietly, stuttering.

Raiko snapped her mouth shut, and looked at the blonde woman. "What for?" she asked curiously.

Ardia flushed again under the direct attention, but took a visible gulp of air. "My… grandmother. She was in the building. You saved her life."

Raiko felt a creeping warmth spread over her body as Ardia met her eyes for the first time. She had pale green-grey eyes, like shallow water over river rocks. "I was just doing my duty." She said gruffly, bowing her head.

Ardia nodded furiously, turning away as well. "Of course, the Jedi Code – but still." She smiled slightly. "Thank you."

Raiko returned the smile timidly. "You're welcome." Ardia slipped the evidence bag into the receptacle and a blue and white holoprojection of various graphs and numbers came up. Raiko blinked stupidly, her composure returning with her confusion. "Well. Right. Um. What does this mean exactly?"

Ardia chuckled lightly, and zoomed in on the projection of the dust analysis. "It means a lot of different things – but most importantly, it helps us narrow down what materials the bomb was made of, based on the chemical compound residue left in the dust and cross-referencing with various ammunition and explosive manufacturers on file, we can cross off possible suspects." Ardia pointed to a smaller list near to the metal fragments of what had been the original device. "And here is a list of trace materials that were _on_ the bomb before it was planted – minerals, chemicals, soil, even DNA if we're lucky, but nothing came up on that part."

"So, I can send this data somewhere to have it compared to other physical evidence?" Raiko asked wonderingly. "If for example, I sent the data to be compared to an area under suspect-"

"It would either confirm or rule out that area. Or at least confirm or rule out certain trace elements. For example – I can tell you that a lot of the materials that were on and in the bomb were not from Alderaan."

"How many is a lot?" Raiko asked slowly.

"About 98% percent or more is foreign material." Ardia looked troubled. "Whoever the bomber is – they aren't from Alderaan."

Raiko bit back a curse, and instead smiled. "Well, don't worry about that – and if you wouldn't mention that to anyone else for the time being?" Ardia nodded immediately. Raiko felt a little relief settle over her. Something about the woman just seemed trustworthy, and Raiko felt inclined to believe her. "Thank you. Can you forward this to my holosystem?"

"Of course!" Ardia tapped a few buttons, and Raiko felt her wrist-holo buzz, before she quickly forwarded it again to her Master, adding on the news that the bomber probably wasn't from Alderaan.

She could only hope that Plo's presence would prevent Jaxxik or her friends from being villainized and exploited further. Another buzz made her look down, seeing Plo's confirmation that he was with Jaxxik, the Chief and the Guard and they were currently meeting with Jaxxik and Pue's boss, and trying to sort everything out.

Once again – Raiko only had herself to blame when chaos raised its ugly head again.

She was just leaving the university, waving goodbye to Ardia – when she felt a rippling shockwave of horror in the Force, and snapping her head up – was able to make out smoke rising from the palace – where the disturbance was coming from. Even from where she was, she could faintly hear the screams. She turned back to Ardia, who was looking horrified.

"Get back inside." She said shortly. "Lock yourself somewhere safe and make sure everyone you love is safe."

"My… cousin… she works in the palace." Ardia was frozen, and Raiko was aware of the chaos heading towards them, the stampede of panicked citizens through the streets running from danger they didn't understand.

"Get inside!" Raiko barked, trying to channel her Master's strict tone. It seemed to work Ardia hurrying back into the university as curious faces appeared at windows and doors, locking the door behind her with her master key. Raiko sent a distress call to Plo, before swinging her body back into the police speeder, and flicking on the siren. Human behaviour wasn't always predictable, but conditioning was generally dependable – and it didn't disappoint, the Alderaan public parting for the sirens automatically, despite the panic fuelling the chaos.

The Palace gates were wide open, people streaming from the marble archways and running down the entranceway. Raiko pulled up beside the palace wall – knowing there was no way she could get through the main gate. Instead – she focussed her eyes on the balcony she knew was her rooms. The smoke was thicker on the north side of the palace, and Raiko drew up her shirt collar as she began to climb the gates.

She could still sense the Ambassador, and what she hoped was the Queen – meaning that they hadn't made it out. _Keep the alliance at the fore-front of the mission. Everything else was secondary._ Including the faint panic that was building in her as she got closer to the smoke and growing heat she could feel through the marble.

In the corridor, half of the building had caved in – the vast throne room half-decimated, marble floor cracked and falling away to reveal the drop of the natural cliff the palace had been built on top of. Keeping to the wall, Raiko skirted the gap, heading towards the Ambassador's office. He was still in there – for some reason.

There were flames licking at the throne, and Raiko's eyes zeroed in on the abandoned grey fur cloak strewn across the arm. _The Queen had to have been nearby._ As she watched, the fur began to burn, turning black. She had to look away before her mind told her it was blackening flesh.

She had to jump – taking a leap across a narrower gap of floor, catching a hold of the red door that had marked the beginning of their mission here – and hopefully not the end. It took a push with both her strength and the Force to get the door to swing open. Inside was bedlam – flimsi and cloth strewn about, splinters of the great wooden desk all over the room. Slumped against the far wall was the ambassador, the Queen kneeling over him. Her first instinct was to run to the fallen humans – but a sudden screeching warning in the Force made her hang back and scan the room.

That was when she felt it – the same icy cold that she had felt at the square, the freezing bite that haunted her dreams. She flinched involuntarily, sending a chunk of plaster from the wall. Outside of the door, the fire raged on, the palace shuddering on its rocky foundations. Inside the office it was almost quiet.

Quiet enough for Raiko to hear the faint ticking coming from further in the office. A low, disjointed laugh echoed across the room then – and Raiko squeezed her eyes shut.

"_Lee_ttle Je_di sp_awn." The voice that spoke was just as disconcerting as the laugh, metallic and distorted as if through radio waves. "_Cooo_me ou_ttt_…"

Raiko looked up, meeting the Queen's gaze. The woman's hair was falling out of her braided crown, and she had blood running from her temple. But she looked hopeful. Raiko clenched her jaw, and stepped out into the slanted room. Leaning against the far balcony, looking completely at ease was a tall and spindly Skakoan, his metal pressurised suit glinting in the low light. The centre of the cold presence seemed to be radiating from him. "_You_ are_e_ _small_er than _iiii_ remem_ber_." He garbled.

"It was you." Raiko said slowly – putting together the rough silhouette of the Skakoan with the figure she had seen at the square. "But – why?" Last time she had caught up with Senate business, the Techno Union wasn't at war with Alderaan, nor did either planet seem interested in any sort of relationship – positive or otherwise. They were simply indifferent.

The Skakoan laughed. "Seel_ly_ _lee_ttle girl. There is no _why…_ only _when_."

Raiko's skin prickled, and her hand went slowly to her belt. "Well – when, then? When _what?"_ she questioned, her fingers closing around the hilt of her lightsaber.

"_Wh_en the Union _wi_ll rise, and the _Rep_ublic will fall under the A_ll_iance." He answered simply – confusingly. Raiko felt a trill of fear hold her in place. This is what her Master had mentioned – a growing darkness. "_An_d _n_ow I think I have _linge_red long _eno_ugh. The_re is wor_k to be do_ne_, mess_ages_ to _send_." He moved twitchily, his hand darting under his long outer coat, and Raiko reacted instinctively, igniting her lightsaber and bringing it up in front of her face in one smooth movement. He just laughed, holding a small metal ball aloft, and then throwing it towards her. There wasn't time to think – and Raiko just reacted, swinging up her saber to slice the ball before it hit her. It was the wrong thing to do.

The bright bang of light and smoke as the flash-bomb exploded sent her flying, ears ringing and retina blacked out with the strength of the light. She hit the wall hard, crumpling and feeling her lightsaber slip from her grasp in the process. Her head was spinning, but as she felt the building rumble again, she tried to get to her feet. A blow to the side of her head sent her snapping back again, her ears ringing painfully. It was as if she was underwater, just able to hear the Queen starting to plead, the Ambassador making low groaning noises, and worst of all; the sound of an engine outside the window. The Queen began to cry out now – and there was a dull sickening thud and then her voice stopped. Raiko tried to stand upright, head throbbing and vision still blurry – trying to head towards the cold of the Skakoan.

Lifting her wrist to her mouth she jabbed blindly at her communicator, and began to speak, hoping it would reach someone. "The bomber – he's taking the Queen and the Ambassador – I don't know where, but he has a vehicle and I think he's going to _execute _them and the palace is-"

The floor suddenly fell out from underneath her, and she choked off with a scream as she went tumbling down a sharp incline. She rolled and fell what must have been a few feet, before she came to an abrupt stop – her body crashing into what felt like a rock. There was a sharp, visceral snap – and white hot pain flooded her left side. She bit back a howl of pain, biting down on her bottom lip.

"_Get up._" She whispered to herself, hearing the roar of flames, and the rumble of destruction behind her, and engines over her head and around her – dizzying and confusing. "Get up, get up, get up, _get up, GET UP!" _with a bellow, she pushed herself upright – gasping in pain as her most likely broken ribs screamed in protest. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her fuzzy vision. "There is no emotion, there is peace… _there is no emotion, there is peace._"

It was the familiar, calming presence in the Force that soothed her enough to really focus – the feeling of her Master approaching her position. Slowly, willing her senses to return, she managed a step forwards, and another, and another, until she was walking towards Plo Koon.

There was still a confusing tangle of sensations in her awareness, too much for her muddle brain to process, but when her Master's hand fell on her arm, she latched onto him – babbling senselessly, trying to direct her words to him. He may have been speaking, maybe it someone else – but then they were moving again, Raiko edged onto a speeder of some kind, the thrumming of the engine making her head ache more. At least she could see now – the form of her Master directing the driver, the lines of his body tight and furious.

She was surrounded by Guards and Police alike, and a familiar face across from her. Jaxxik was speaking probably, eyes on Raiko and mouth moving. Raiko just shook her head at the red-headed woman, who visibly ground her teeth in some kind of frustration. Raiko kept her head upright, fighting the urge to close her eyes and cry out in pain. Her face felt wet, and rubbing at her skin – brought her hand away wet and shining with her green blood.

The next couple of hours passed by in a blur. The brilliant blue of her Master's saber even made an appearance, a long with another flashbang, and two dramatic showdowns – before the Skakoan was apprehended, laughing maniacally – led away by half of the surviving Guard. Raiko watched from the cockpit of the transport ship, with Jaxxik by her side as the Queen addressed the assembled people outside, still filthy and bloody from the incident – waving off the Guard that were trying to herd her onto the transport. The Ambassador stood beside her, a silent pillar of support – and Jaxxik scoffed.

"Look at 'em. They're lapping it up."

"Who?" Raiko asked softly, looking at the scene, at the destroyed looking city, the people who had their faces upturned to the Queen, and the Queen who was watching them all just as intensely.

"All of them. They'll take any scrap of false solidarity she gives – an' in return, she'll go back to thinkin' that Alderaan is perfect. Within a month – this'll be reduced to a crazy story. An' we'll go back to the dirt." The woman seemed to be thinking aloud – face creasing with anger and worry. Raiko said nothing, turning back to the scene as the crowd applauded, and the Queen raised a hand to them – grasping at nothing.

_So what had been gained? What had been leanrnt?_

That was her Master's motto in her training.

_What had been gained? _

For Jaxxik and the slum-folk; nothing. Their plan to be noticed and helped by the Alderaan society had been dangerous and fruitless.

For the Queen, Ambassador and their government; justification. Another reason to keep their borders tight, to forbid weapons and war and disorder – and undesirables, like Jaxxik.

For the Skakoan, who was unknown and unidentifiable; everything. From what Raiko and her Master could tell – he had wanted chaos for chaos' sake. His claims to Raiko about his association with the Techno Union hadn't led anywhere either – he appeared to be a rogue agent, however eerie and coincidental his words had been.

_What had been learnt?_

Raiko had learnt of her own short-comings – violently and quickly – and had learnt that perfection was a two-sided coin. What looked to be beautiful on the surface – like Alderaan – would always have a fouler side. She had learnt that she knew nothing. She learnt that darkness spread like a weed and was growing faster than anyone seemed to realise.

Raiko watched the outwardly placid blue-green planet of Alderaan fade from the deck of their ship, with a certain sense of relief. Her ribs were still healing – and some of her burns had scarred already, mottling the skin of her arms.

In the cockpit – she could hear her Master signing off his final report to the Council, could feel his awareness still centred on her. It had been ever since they had stepped on board the ship home, and she had been waiting for his words.

Sure enough, he made his way over to where she was standing.

For a long while, they were silent, as the ship jumped to hyperspace, and everything faded to the blue and white of space rushing past them.

"What do you feel, Raiko?"

Raiko shivered slightly, as his words made her focus in on her confusing knot of emotions. "Conflicted, Master." She whispered. He waited patiently, as she slowly moved through the feelings. "Mostly – confused, angry, at the contradictions of fairness and inequality in a system that claims to rule with peace – how could something like this _happen_ if it is all so _beautiful, and peaceful, and right-?"_ she cut herself off, as she grew more agitated. "And… I feel… pain. And I feel… _afraid_." She admitted lowly.

"Afraid of what? The things that have happened, or what you sense to come?" Plo asked astutely, and Raiko swallowed thickly.

"Afraid of the dark that seems to be growing." She said. "I-I'm sorry, Master. I know my feelings are _inappropriate_, to say the least – dangerous, even, and I-"

Plo held up a hand to stop her rapid speech, and she did obediently, waiting with tense shoulders as he thought. When he spoke, she flinched involuntarily, and she felt his Force signature soften in apology. "Little tooka, the fact that you sense your emotions are harmful is enough to keep you grounded in the light. That you feel uncomfortable _feeling_ these things will assist you to move past them, accept them, rather than allow them to control you." He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and as always, she leant into the physical affection like a flower to the sun's rays. "We'll meditate together, and I'll help you find peace, because there is-"

"_No emotion, there is peace._" Raiko finished with him, nodding thankfully.

Slipping into her Master's Force energy was as easy as breathing, she was so in tune to his signature, that locating the peaceful centre of his meditation was simple. There, she opened her mind to him, and gratefully accepted his methodical examination of her emotions.

That cycle, she slept without nightmares.


	6. Chapter 5

CC-8047 was nothing special.

Of course – none of them were, not really – because they were all the same. They were all each other, in every way possible. Every way that counted.

When he was younger – only a few weeks out of the tubes – he had gone through a phase of being disturbed by his fellow clones. Every time he saw himself in a mirror – he hadn't been able to tell if he was even looking at himself. As his batch grew older, though, it was a little easier to differentiate, as they formed their own opinions and personalities – at least, as much as they were allowed. He was certain if the Kaminoans had their way they'd engineer that bit of human nature out of them too.

But still – he was nothing special.

He didn't have humour like CT-9503, he couldn't shoot perfectly like CC-5759, he didn't even have the creativity of CT-2338.

Ironically – he was a command clone who followed others. He knew he was mediocre – and every single evaluation, every single drill or exercise, he struggled to keep up with the others in his unit. The unit he should have been leading.

Lying awake after runs – sweating and aching, knowing that he would be doing it all over again in just a few hours time – he couldn't help but understand CC-3030's nihilistic view. Though – unlike CC-3030, he wasn't even brave enough to express them. Of course, such expression hadn't lasted long, and CC-8047 hadn't even known CC-3030 well enough to say hello before the other clone had been reconditioned.

He kept it buried – the faint question of _why_. _Why him? Why not him? Why were they kept waiting and training for something that was never fully explained? _

Kamino was a cold place.

He had to grow to be colder to survive.

On Kamino, there was no peace, and the only kindness was the base companionship you could form with your squad – even at the risk of being separated any minute. Kamino taught loyalty, and yet scorned true friendship. CC-8047 knew that the more isolated they were from anything but training and programming and the _Republic, Republic, Republic, Republic_ – the more docile they would be. CC-8047 also knew how much the Kaminoans hated resistance. His batch were the first after the disaster of the ARCs – the clones that were just a _little_ too much like Jango to be useful, to be tame.

He liked to think – that maybe – there was a little more of Jango in him too; and that was why he could see all that, see behind the cool, calm faces of the Kaminoans to their base reasoning. Of course – he knew, that he sounded like a lunatic. And so, he tried to forget his _whys_, and focus on his training. It was easy enough, when any questions were beat out of him, when he was told to keep quiet.

After years of it – it became second nature to follow, even whilst he led.

* * *

CC-8047 knew he wasn't popular within his squad, knew that they preferred to follow his second in command, knew that they thought him too quiet and too standoffish. It didn't escape his notice, when they clustered around one bench in the mess hall, purposefully taking up all the space so that he had to sit by himself, how some of them rolled their eyes at him, or subtly ignored him during combat.

He learnt to work around it, giving suggestions to his second, and letting him to the ordering, throwing himself into physical training when he was alone, pouring over the reg manuals whenever he was left behind. CC-8047 grew even quieter.

It cost him everything.

It was the last of a series of live-round simulations – classic battle-ground stuff. They were doing well for time – the squad pushing and pushing, without much regard for their surroundings, because _they'd done this sim before, boys_. CC-8047 knew that it was a little too easy. That gnawing voice inside him he kept trampled down whispered a warning. The Kaminoans weren't the type to make it simple. But his squad was laughing, and they were heading even further up – not waiting for him as he took stock of the environment and performed a quick HUD scan.

It was regulation – to halt when the commanding officer did. It was regulation for _all_ them to scan the area, even if it was familiar terrain. It was regulation for them to stick together.

CC-8047 felt the shockwaves before he realised what had happened.

The sudden shift in gravity and crazy tilt to his HUD view made him just as disoriented as the sudden explosion from ahead. He scrambled upright, bolting towards the bombsite. The jagged remnants of the landscape, and the all-consuming hiss of static on the comms channel made his stomach flip. He stumbled over an object half-buried in the ground. At first, he thought it was a plate of white-armour, before he realised what the white, flattish object was. He flinched away as bile rose in his throat, turning from the chunk of skull on the ground.

"Squadron B30-T, report in."

His call went unanswered.

"Squad-" his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, coughing. "Squadron B30-T, is anyone on comms?" He could see red now, seeping into the earth of the place – displaced bits of white armour and gore. He choked on nothing, and closed his eyes under his helmet, gritting his teeth. _He should have said something. He should have spoken up._

_"CC-8047, report to simulation exit. Squadron B30-T, live-fire simulation #129, failed." _The cool voice of the Kaminoan observer seemed entirely unaffected by the sudden violence. Jerkily, his body responded to the command, even as his mind went spinning into shock.

_Why didn't he say something?_

_Why hadn't he obeyed reg?_

_If he had just said something_…

The Kaminoan who he surrendered his blaster to at the exit said nothing, simply looking him over once and swiping at something on his holopad. CC-8047 stood in the cool-off room in silence.

He didn't know what to do now.

* * *

In the months that followed, he shifted units three times.

He didn't ever stay long enough to form friendships – but as he walked into the bunks of what was to be his fourth transfer, something was already different.

The clones sprawled on the bed closest to him perked up, one of them snapping to perfect attention so quickly, he hit his head on the bunk on the way to his feet. He didn't wince, but his eyebrow twitched and his face went red. The clone beside him, with a full head of hair – quirked a smile. CC-8047 raised an eyebrow. "At ease." He said, almost curiously. The other clones relaxed, one of them bursting into laughter.

"Sorry, sir – I just think CC-4663 is a little excited to see you." The clone's voice was jovial, his cheeks faintly flushed with the force of holding in his laughter. "We've been… uh, leaderless for sometime."

"Yeah. Wonder why that is." A completely bald clone rolled his eyes, and shot the smiling clone a glare.

The clone shrugged in response, stepping forwards and holding his hand out. "We're a tight-knit group," CC-8047 felt something sink inside of him at the admission, some small part of him that craved friendship withering again. "And I guess all of our other Captains didn't know what to do with us. Did you want me to take your bag, sir?"

"You mean they didn't know what to do with you, Jest- sorry, CT-8008." Another clone piped up, colouring as CC-8047 looked over in surprise at the use of the nickname. His hair was shaved into a mohawk, and he looked a little younger than the rest of them.

"Because you're a child." The bald clone said bluntly.

CC-4663 looked mortified at the whole situation, stepping forwards as the smiling clone placed his things onto a bunk. He drew CC-8047 away slightly, who went with him easily, if only to placate the clearly horrified clone. "I am _so_ sorry, sir. Our group is a bit mismatched, we've got a lot of personalities, a lot of spare parts," _spare parts_, referring to clones left behind or separated from their training squads. Like him. Except he had left _them_ behind. "But what I think we need, is someone to whip us into shape. They don't listen to me." He let out a little huff, hands settling on his hips in a way that seemed entirely matriarchal and unconscious. CC-8047 looked at the hopeful looking man, and then over his shoulder at the five other clones that were playfully bickering behind them – the bald clone pinning CT-8008 to the floor in a chokehold as the other three looked on in amusement.

"I'd be happy to help, CC-4663."

His mouth worked before his brain did – but even as he considered it further, the leap of hope he felt being surrounded by such friendly clones felt right. At the way they had looked at him with understanding as he explained why he was alone – he realised he might not have to be anymore.

They graduated from cadet training with honours and promotions.

Of course, none of them had any real battle experience – but still, the patches of colour on their armour were satisfying. They knew it was unlikely they'd remain together when the war came – even if all signs pointed towards them working well together – so each moment they spent together.

What he treasured above all – was that fact that they still numbered six, even after the brutality of the final rounds of training. They were all still alive. They were still outcasts, still only had friends within their own group – because to the other clones, they were still all a little strange. CC-8047 didn't let it bother him anymore – because he had his brothers, chosen, rather than made. He was still a little too thoughtful, a little quiet, a little solemn, but it was accepted now, rather than shunned and valued. The varying personalities of their squad came together, and he couldn't have been happier.

Of course – nothing lasted forever, and when the call to battle was raised, when the Jedi finally came to collect them – CC-8047 felt a stab of reluctance as he watched his old squad march off with their own groups of clones to command. He was a captain now, and he was required to follow the Jedi directly.

Space was strange – and nothing like he'd expected from the simulations. Even stranger was the wizened little Jedi master on board with them, who crooned and muttered nonsensically, pacing and looking worried and distant and like everything he'd thought a Jedi would be. Geonosis was a desert planet, and to calm himself as the dusty planet appeared in sight of the bridge, he began to run through the reg manuals that covered desert environments. The energy of the clones began to swell, as they shifted and rocked with the force of descent. CC-8047 forced himself to be still, to ignore the rising anxiety and excitement that was growing within the young men around him.

The sun through the transport windows was almost alien after his life on a dark planet. He imagines he could feel the warmth of it as the sounds of chaos exploded into his awareness.

_Peace and warmth seemed to go hand in hand._


	7. Chapter 6

"I don't know how much longer I can hold off the vote, my friends. More and more star systems are joining the Separatists."

The Chancellor kept his quarters sterile and cold, and Raiko had to resist the urge to shiver – both at the man's words and at the temperature. The Masters of the council were sitting in front of her, her own Master, along with Yoda, Mace Windu, Luminara Unduli, Ki-Adi-Mundi and Kit Fisto. Master Unduli's apprentice, Barriss Offee stood beside her – both them keeping a respectful distance. It was more than a little frustrating, because she had wanted to butt in several times during the conversation. Palpatine was being frustratedly vague about the state of affairs in the Senate – and Raiko could sense almost all of the Master's growing frustration – apart from Yoda, who as always, seemed outwardly calm and thoughtful.

After the bombing on the landing dock – aimed to kill the Senator of Naboo – Padmé Amidala, the ex-queen and one of Raiko friend's, all she wanted to do was go see if the other woman was alright. Instead, she was stuck here, as the Senator mildly denied that war was coming.

"If they do break away-" Mace attempted to interject, but the Chancellor kept speaking, as if unhearing.

"I will not let this Republic – which has stood for a thousand years split in two. My negotiations will _not fail._" The Chancellor said, nodding righteously.

"If they do," Mace continued with equal blitheness. "You must realise there aren't enough Jedi to protect the Republic. We're keepers of the peace. Not soldiers." Raiko shifted uncomfortably. Peace-keeping had never been one of her strong points – she was in fact, a better warrior than she was negotiator. A soothing tendril of energy brushed against her awareness, making her look to her Master. He remained silent and unmoving.

The Chancellor looked at Yoda. "Master Yoda, do you really think it will come to war?"

Yoda hummed, closing his eyes. "Hmmm, the dark side clouds everything. Impossible to see, the future is." At the acknowledgement of even their most powerful Master's uncertainty, Raiko and Barriss exchanged a worried look. Raiko wasn't particularly close to the other girl, who hadn't been a Padawan for very long – and before that, had been a part of the Hare Clan. However, she seemed friendly enough, and Raiko was just happy to have another Padawan present to share her fears with.

Then, a transmission appeared on the Chancellors desk, a Rodian speaking in halting Huttese making the Chancellor smile slightly. "Good." He said, nodding slightly. "Send them in." The transmission faded out.

Raiko turned to look automatically as the doors hissed open, revealing Padmé, Jar-Jar and a host of other familiar faces from Naboo. She couldn't help but smile, bowing as Padmé approached her. "Senator." She murmured, straightening as her smile faded. Padmé looked tired. "I'm so sorry." She said.

Padmé gave a half-smile, reaching to grasp Raiko's hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's not your doing. I'm just glad to see a familiar face." Raiko bowed again as Padmé moved past her to greet the other Jedi. She and the other woman had kept in contact almost involuntarily. As an Arcturian, she and her Master often ventured to the Naboo system in order to resolve issues there, due to her knowledge and cultural connection to the planets. It meant that she saw Padmé almost regularly – much to Anakin's jealousy.

Jar-Jar paused in front of her as well – but with much less decorum, bringing her in for a tight squeeze. "Raiko! _You have grown since we last met! You are getting old now!"_ the Gungan spoke loudly in Gungani, making Ki-Adi-Mundi look over in disapproval. She laughed, patting the Gungan on the shoulder as she stepped away.

"_I wish I could grow taller, Jar-Jar. It is good to see you." _She grinned at him, watching as he suddenly snapped into a poised position as her Master approached.

Plo Koon nodded to the Gungan Ambassador, before turning to Raiko. "Young one, you are dismissed for now. Perhaps you'd like to accompany the Ambassador to get her settled into her apartments." It was an offer to spend some time with her friend, and she jumped on it, as Padmé's security chief nodded in thanks.

"Of course, Master."

"Perhaps it is a good idea." The Chancellor spoke up again, from where he stood at the window. "Master Jedi – may I suggest… the Senator be placed under the protection of your graces?"

"You really think that's a wise decision in these stressful times?" The voice of Bail Organa was familiar. It played often in her memories and nightmares. There was no bad blood between them, yet one of Raiko's first missions had involved the Ambassador – and it was traumatising for both of them. She hadn't greeted him, just gave him a polite smile that he returned.

Padmé interrupted the musings of the two men, with all the sharpness of a woman sick of being ordered around. "Chancellor, if I may comment, I do not believe-"

"The situation is that serious?" The Chancellor spoke over her again, and Padmé fell silent. "No, but I do, Senator. I realise all too well that additional security might be disruptive to you, but perhaps – like the Padawan Omari – someone familiar to you. An old friend. Master Kenobi." The Chancellor suggested smoothly. She shuddered slightly at the way her name slid out of his mouth. Politicians were so…_smooth,_ to the point of being slimy.

"That's possible." Master Windu spoke up. "He's just returned from a border dispute on Ansion." Raiko almost snorted. Less of a simple dispute, and more of an all-out blood-bath. Anakin had called her the night cycle before, to detail her with the story of their daring escapades, including showing her his new scar. _Idiot_. She thought affectionately, sending a pinging warmth through their bond.

He responded almost immediately, a quick barrage of return affection, curiosity and worry returning through. Of course he'd be worried about Padmé – and overjoyed once he knew that he'd be stationed on guard duty for her.

"Do it for me, milady, please." The Chancellor said imploringly, approaching Padmé slowly. "The thought of losing you… is unbearable." He finished sadly.

"I will have Obi-Wan report to you immediately, milady." Mace nodded to Padmé, as her Master sent her a fleeting brush of a good-bye, filing from the chamber with the rest of the council members. Raiko fell into step with Padmé, holding out her arm for the other woman to take.

"Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…" Padmé said aloud, musingly. Her eyes were far away, remembering.

"Anakin will be with him." Raiko said quietly, smiling slightly as Padmé's eyes widened and she flushed lightly.

"Anakin… who-? Oh, yes… _Anakin_." She made a great show out of 'remembering' the man – making Raiko stifle a laugh. Padme frowned at her, nudging her slightly.

"Come off it, Padmé." She leant a little closer to the woman, so that the rest of her party couldn't hear them. "I can feel your excitement." The woman made a small choking noise before she regained her composure.

"Perhaps I am just excited for the vote." Padmé sniffed, and turned her nose up. Raiko just laughed again, as they filed into the elevator.

* * *

Raiko reclined on the couch as Padmé's assistants continued to prepare the apartment, setting up stations and wardrobes, after the all clear from the security team. Raiko had gone over the place with Padmé's security chief as well, and though she noted several minor dangers to security, she figured Anakin and Obi-Wan would have it covered.

She could feel them approaching.

Her Force bond to both of them made them all very attune to each other – much to Anakin's excitement and Obi-Wan's occasional annoyance. Anakin's Force signature was as strong as ever – and she wouldn't have needed a bond with him to sense his approach anyway, because of how much he influenced the living Force around him just by being there. Obi-Wan on the other hand, was as restrained as ever – a cool tone to Anakin's fiery presence. She hadn't seen the pair in a few months now, with only snatches of conversation with Anakin to tide over the break. She had missed them, and was just as excited as Padmé was trying not to be.

It was Jar-Jar's loud exclamation of greeting that made her stand, shooting Padme a wink as she surreptitiously adjusted her position by the window. Raiko leant, casually on the back of the couch as the pair of them walked into the room. Obi-Wan's eyes went straight to her, but predictably, Anakin's gaze locked itself onto Padme.

"Long time no see." Raiko said, smiling faintly. Obi-Wan nodded to her, eyes giving her a paternal once over with a careful blankness that belied his concern. He had missed her too – she could feel it through their link.

"Keeping out of trouble, Padawan Omari?" Obi-Wan asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned, "As much as I can, Master, you know me. Anakin." She greeted her friend, who gave her a grin of his own.

"You've gotten shorter." He said cheekily.

She scowled at him, "_Nerod._" _Idiot._ She spat, and then turned to Padmé, sending her a sweet smile. "Well, I can see I'm no longer needed here, Ambassador. It was a pleasure seeing you again, and I hope Master Kenobi, and _Anakin's_ presence here will ease your mind." She said, making Padme narrow her eyes at her. "Good day, everyone."

She bowed to the room, shot Anakin a wink, and then turned on her heel to leave – satisfied with the sudden flurry of fluster from both Padmé and Anakin. Obi-Wan sent her a faint blast of exasperation, making her grin as she got in the elevator.

They had it covered.

* * *

Raiko stopped by the training dojo on her way back to her quarters.

She was feeling agitated, and whether it was her own agitation or Anakin's was anyone's guess. She knew she wouldn't really settle without clearing her mind a little. Normally, in the presence of her Master – she'd be instructed to meditate. But Raiko knew that to clear her mind, she needed to distract her body.

Saber training was her own peace.

Sweating and aching from stretches and flips and turns – arms sore from holding her saber aloft – that was when she found peace. The Force only ever really came easily when she was fighting, when she moulded with her saber to become one single entity.

Panting, she collapsed onto the floor, lying spread-eagled on the hardwood floor.

"Are you alright, Raiko?"

The small voice of her favourite youngling roused her enough to sit up, groaning at the protesting muscles in her core. Ahsoka Tano stood in the doorway of the dojo, smiling eagerly. Raiko managed a smile in return and got to her feet. "Just fine, 'Soka, how are you?"

"Good! I started my final kata today – you wanna see?" the little torgruta bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, grinning hopefully.

Raiko nodded, sighing slightly as her calves ached as she stretched them lightly. "Come on then, show me what you got."

Ahsoka responded brilliantly to the challenge, pulling out her little dual training lightsabers and falling into Jar'kai stance. The Torgruta seemed to like Jar'kai technique better than the others, and had gone down the dual-saber path since she had been able to chose what forms she wished to study. Sometimes, Raiko would practice with her, keeping her Jar'kai fresh in her mind. The younger girl was a fun opponent – and it was entertaining to train with the girl, even if most of the time Raiko had to stop early to avoid Ahsoka from hurting herself in her eagerness to keep up with the elder Padawan learner. It was cute really.

Raiko reactivated her saber, grinning as Ahsoka let out her customary appreciative hum. Ahsoka had always liked her white-saber, and it was flattering to have an admirer.

It had been a struggle to use the lightsaber at first – not literally, but socially. After days of debate within the council – Raiko had finally been returned her pearl, and had been permitted to build her lightsaber. Turning up to Obi-Wan's door in tears, she had been gently lead by the elder boy, who had held her hand when Yoda had taken the pearl off her for council examination. There were still Jedi, Padawan and Masters alike who frowned upon her white blade. Afterall – she hadn't exerted much if any effort to find it, in fact, she'd had it all her life. But they didn't know – they _couldn't_ know what she had seen in the caves of Ilum. Anakin usually reminded her to ignore them, that they had no idea.

But her saber worked just as well as any other crystal powered saber, and she could use it just as well, if not better than her naysayers anyway. And Ahsoka liked it, and Anakin thought it was pretty, and Plo had never said anything against it. It was enough for her.

Raiko was careful, gentle with the youngling, as they battled it out on the dojo mats. She was careful with her strikes, not wanting to injure Ahsoka – and when she had disarmed the youngling, she deactivated her saber mid-killing strike. Ahsoka just pouted, running over to collect her fallen saber. "When will I be as good as you?" she asked almost petulantly. "I want _you_ to be my Master."

Raiko just laughed, lightly tugging at one of Ahsoka's head-tails. The young girl already had developed her facial markings fully, and she was growing in a set of horns, just little blue-grey nubs now – but Raiko could see she would be beautiful when she was older. "I don't think I'd make a good Master. I want to be a _Knight_. It's all I'm good at, anyway."

Ahsoka shook her head determinedly. "I think you're a good teacher."

"If I was your Master, we'd have to stop our sleepovers. We'd have to be… _formal_." Raiko pointed out theatrically, and Ahsoka gave a look of horror. Raiko chuckled again, and span Ahsoka around directing her to the door. "Come on, it's getting late. Do you want to come see Master Plo with me before bed?" Ahsoka cheered, and bounced ahead, leaving Raiko to switch off the lights.

Raiko truly couldn't see herself becoming any sort of Master. Perhaps she could be a teacher, if all she taught was lightsaber form and combative skills – but she didn't have enough patience, experience nor Force ability to be a true Master. Her Force skills lay almost solely within emotional capacities, and lightsaber duelling. Unlike Anakin, who could lift a ship without a sweat, it took Raiko intense focus to move even a piece of fruit to her fork.

For all her Master's assurances that it didn't mean she was any less of a Jedi – it did mean she was weaker. It was still a reminder of what she lacked.


	8. Chapter 7

It was Anakin who came to tell her about the dramatic events that had unfolded the night before.

Even as he spoke about the near assassination, Obi-Wan's jump from a building, and the killing of the rogue agent that had attempted to kill Padmé, he seemed more excited than usual. Frowning at the revelation of a Kaminoan dart being used in the murder, she interrupted his excited flow. He was pacing in front of her, arms waving, blue eyes sparkling.

"Okay – that's all… horrible – so why are you so… _happy_?" she asked suspiciously, probing his emotions to confirm that it was joyful excitement she was detecting.

"Because – and don't get jealous-" she rolled her eyes at him, even as he poked his tongue out at her. "I've just received my first solo mission."

Raiko did in fact, feel a stab of trepidation – but it wasn't born out of any envy of her friend. "Okay…" she said slowly.

"I'm taking Padmé to Naboo." Anakin finished, and the flush of triumph, hope and hopeless _consuming_ attraction and love that suddenly came through their bond made her dizzy for a second. Anakin felt everything so completely and strongly, it was one of _his_ failures.

The trepidation grew. "Oh, Anakin…" she began, watching as his smile turned dreamy. This little crush that she had amusedly and _foolishly_ fostered wasn't just puppy-dog adoration. This was a lot heavier than she had thought. And she had _encouraged _it.

"-it'll be perfect, just me and Padmé. We can get to know each other better – I'll show her how much I've grown, and I'll-"

"Anakin!" she shouted to get his attention, and he stopped moving, turning to look at her, still looking slightly wild-eyed. "Is this… I mean – are you sure that this is a good idea?" She asked tentatively.

"What do you mean?" he asked, coming to sit beside her on her bed. She picked up his hand, and held it with both of her own, willing him to understand.

"Ani – your feelings, they've always been so… _intense_ – and I'm not saying that's bad because, I am the same way – but in this context, I don't know if it's _safe_. You swore an oath-" Anakin laughed suddenly, and she frowned.

Gently, he interlaced their fingers, squeezing gently. "I know that you've been told all your life that feelings are inappropriate, Rai – but you're _wrong_. Our feelings are strong for a reason. I believe they allow us to access the Force, to build compassion, to bring justice with surety. Raiko – I've never been so sure about anything. I know that my feelings for Padmé are _right_." Anakin met her eyes with the same strength he did everything. "But I don't know if anyone else will understand, so I can't _tell_ anyone else. Just you." Raiko had never seen him fail before – he'd been her champion time after time, defending her from others, picking her up when she fell, letting her cry her fears out into his shoulder. She couldn't turn away from him now. And she couldn't even be sure herself – that feelings were so wrong.

Attachments were forbidden – but what she and Anakin, and even what she and Obi-Wan had, surely that classified as attachment, and yet that wasn't discouraged. How was romantic love different?

"Okay." She whispered, and pressed her forehead to his, drinking in the comfort that his closeness offered her, strengthening her decision. "Just please be safe."

Anakin leant into as well, closing his eyes. "I will be. I'll see you soon, okay? Try not to worry."

Raiko laughed lightly. "I always worry about you, Ani – that's my job."

* * *

Obi-Wan left not long after Anakin, Raiko watching his ship disappear into the atmosphere until it was out of sight. She felt another surge of worry – and as she made no effort to hide it, received comfort pinging back at her from the three men – her Master also sending a gentle summons which she followed obediently, letting herself into his quarters quietly.

"Your emotions are rampant, young one." Plo said from his seated position on his meditation mat. "Bring some tea." The kettle must have boiled a mere second before she entered, and she half-smiled at his timing, pouring the steaming water over the dried leaves. The fragrance of the tea was almost bitingly floral, but she knew that the sun-jasmine tea tasted smooth and a little minty. It was a favourite of them both just for the taste, not to mention the calming properties it possessed. In another life, Raiko thought her Master might have been a botanist, a healer of some kind – with all his enthusiasm and knowledge of flora and their medicinal properties.

She knelt with the tea set, pouring her own cup first before it got too strong. Her Master preferred his tea strong to the point of bitterness.

She sipped at the hot liquid as her Master unfolded himself from his meditation position, crossing his legs comfortably instead. "What troubles you? Is it the departure of your friends?"

Raiko made sure she wasn't projecting any emotion as her thoughts went briefly to Anakin's admission of his feelings. "I suppose, Master."

Plo hummed at her, the drinking tube of his mask extended. When she had been years younger, the sight of it had always amused her – as it reminded her a little of a butterfly's proboscis. Now though, the atmosphere felt a little heavy for her to smile. In truth, she was worried about Anakin's feelings – though that was tempered with her own confusion about Jedi code, which she'd have to examine privately, as to not alarm her Master. She was also worried about the looming danger of it all – the star-systems joining the Separatists, the elusiveness and mystery of Dooku's involvement, and the over-shadowing darkness she couldn't quite place. "What else?"

"Just- all of it." She said, gesturing with her cup and spilling a few drops of scalding tea. Before they could fall on her, they froze in mid-air, shaping themselves into little perfect spheres. Plo guided them back into her cup as she watched. "We're ticking forwards to conflict, and I don't know what we'll do because we can't fight a war by ourselves."

"I know. I feel the same worry." Plo sighed heavily, and his shoulders sagged. Raiko considered her Master to be one of the best Jedi to ever exist – perhaps slightly biased by her association with him – but it was the times when he showed he was still touchable, not infallible – did she consider him strongest. She herself struggled to adhere to code, to think with her head, and it brought her to her darkest place when she compared herself to others. Her Master exposing his own very real worries just made her respect him more. "The Force will guide us in turn. You must keep your faith within the Force, Raiko, remember that."

"I know. It's just difficult when the Force feels so far away."

Plo nodded, echoing Yoda's voice from a few days ago. "The dark side clouds everything." He reached out and patted her hand. "Have faith, Raiko, and try to worry not – there is no emotion,"

"There is peace." Raiko finished with a sigh. "Yes, Master." They finished their tea calmly – eating their supper together as well. There was a faint domesticity to the scene, a comfort that came with years of being together. Raiko didn't have any family – at least, no family that she knew – and she liked think of Plo as family, made easier in the quiet moments that they enjoyed the peace together.

* * *

Raiko didn't hear Obi-Wan's transmission herself – but by lunchtime, she and the rest of the Temple were buzzing with the knowledge of the clones on Kamino.

_Cloning an army_.

She was troubled, deeply – but seemed to be one of the only ones to be so. Even Barriss seemed more excited that trepid, babbling through lunch to the other group of elder Padawans about what a blessing it was.

Faceless soldiers fighting a war that wasn't theirs. It seemed cruel – they were sentient, all reports seemed to confirm that – and yet they were being bred straight into war. It made for more sleepless nights.

It wasn't the only thing weighing on her mind. Obi-Wan's extended absence since his transmission – plus Anakin's nightmares. If she slept, she could see them, they were so intense. He didn't seem to know he was transmitting them – flashes of pain and screams, a woman calling his name. She couldn't even contact him to talk to him; to confront him, or comfort him, she wasn't sure – but their connection had never reached past emotions, and Anakin was deliberately out of physical contact in order to protect the Senator. Plo was tied up in constant meetings with the council – requiring him to go to and from the Temple and the Senate multiple times a day; and he had instructed her to simply continue training with the other Padawan.

So she was, effectively, alone.

She kept to her room mostly – her holopad turned onto the live feed of the Senate proceedings, and waited. Every hour, she checked back. But there had been no talk of the army. She waited and read, waited and trained, waited and napped – but never fully relaxing.

The thing that woke her from her restless sleep wasn't an alarm, or an emergency meeting, nor anything with her. It was the sudden flare of red, hot rage from Anakin – burning her awake with its intensity. She gasped awake, clawing at her throat, feeling the sensation of choking as tumultuous sorrow and fury came barrelling through her. Obi-Wan was silent – nothing coming from his connection, and so she was alone again, drowning in the emotions coursing from Anakin.

She fell to her knees as a deep pain filled her – a loss, so terrible it was filling her eyes with tears. Crying out, she stumbled upright – sobbing uncontrollably. "_Anakin_…" she said hoarsely, trying to reach him, pushing all her concern, all her love through to him. It was like trying to swim up a waterfall.

He was inconsolable, unreachable.

"_Please._" She whimpered, curling in on herself. It was hurting her, burning her up inside with the thick darkness of it all. She'd never experienced such _hate_ before. _She was frightened, she wanted it to stop, to go away, please, please, please, **please, PLEASE!**_

She didn't realise she had been screaming until a hand fell over her mouth, and a cool hand touched her temple.

With an internal feeling pop, like the pressure dropping, the sensations stopped – and Raiko fell limply forwards, unconscious in an instant.

* * *

Raiko awoke to her Master's face mask, hovering over her. Of course, she couldn't see his actual expression, but the concern he was radiating was pretty telling. "Master, what-?" her head was aching, but as she spoke, the recollection of the turmoil of Anakin's emotions came flooding back. It was only after she had sat up, helped by Plo's hand under her head, did she realise she couldn't feel them anymore. And more than that – she couldn't feel _him_. "What happened to Anakin?" she asked, dread filling her gut.

Plo tilted his head. "So that was who were connected with."

Raiko tried to backtrack. "What? Oh – yes, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, I think so. I was having a nightmare… I must have really spooked him, hah." She tried for laughter, but at her Master's unimpressed silence, shrunk a little. "Why can't I feel him?"

"I had to put a blocker up." Plo said shortly. "Raiko – what did you _feel_? What happened?"

"I told you – I was having a nightmare." She had never lied to her Master before. Omitted truths, certainly, but never lied. They stared at each other, Raiko willing him to look away, to just accept it. _She needed to know Anakin was okay._

"A nightmare." He did not sound convinced – but as her holopad began to beep behind them, signalling the beginning of a Senate meeting, and his comm device went off on his wrist. He looked away distracted. Raiko took the momentary lapse in focus to try and feel out the blocker he'd erected. She found it – a thick, crude emotional shield she used herself to block her own emotions from projecting. It was clearly hastily erected – but her Master's brute strength in his Force ability had been able to make it strong enough in a little time. He turned back to her, "Don't think we're finished this conversation. I have to go – there's been a distress call."

"From who?" she asked, getting clumsily to her feet as he stood fluidly.

His Force signature panged with sympathy, and warning. "Master Kenobi." He said shortly. Raiko blanched, sitting back down heavily as nausea roiled in her stomach. "I'll return when I can. Don't do anything foolish, and follow orders."

"Yes, Master." She said faintly, and Plo swept from her room. It was barely dawn outside, the sky still grey. She pulled her holopad closer, watching the scrawl of Basic down the bottom; _EMERGENCY MEETING REGARDING THE ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC._

Her lightsaber was resting on her bedside table, well within reach, and she grasped it – taking comfort in the thrumming of the pearl inside, its energy always active.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

She closed her eyes, whispering to herself.

"There is no emotion, there is peace."


	9. Chapter 8

It was chaos outside of her quarters, Younglings, Masters and Padawans alike all scrambling to get somewhere.

Raiko had always thought she'd been unlucky to get quarters so close to the Council chambers, due to Plo's position – it meant a certain level of silence was expected.

But now – as she watched the disarray with wide-eyes – she had never felt more grateful as she spotted Mace Windu, striding purposefully down the corridor, away from her. Tucking her lightsaber into her belt, she ran after him, dodging the people running around her. Mace seemed impervious to the rush of people, the crowds parting for him as he walked. It made it easy to catch up to him, following closely in his wake.

"Master!" she called, making him turn to look at her. His face was set in a hard frown, and she flinched. "Master – what's going on? Where are you going?"

His face remained impassive, and for a moment, she thought he might tell her to go back to her room. Instead, he started walking again. "I assume you've heard the news. The Senate has just gone into an emergency vote. Kenobi, the Senator, and Skywalker have been taken to Geonosis. There's no time to wait for the Senate, so we're going on a rescue mission ourselves."

"We?" Raiko asked, almost jogging to keep up with him.

"The Jedi. We're the soldiers now." He smiled humourlessly. "I never thought it would come to this." He sighed, as they approached the hangars. "You should probably stay, Omari. It wouldn't be safe."

"I want to go." She blurted. He looked unsurprised, even a little pleased. "If this is a fight – then I need to go. Its what I'm good at. It's _all_ I'm good at." She finished a little sardonically. He nodded.

"I suppose you'd better come with me, then. Let Plo know, I don't want him biting my head off for kidnapping you." For someone who was heading into a combat zone, Mace seemed calm. Raiko did as he asked, shooting a clumsily worded half-apology to her Master as she got on board Mace's transport ship. It was painted the same purple as her hair, and sleeker than other standard ships she'd seen. "Can you fly?" Mace asked her.

She gulped. "Um. No?"

He sighed, again looking unsurprised. "Plo never did like being a pilot. Sit upfront, I'll teach you the basics on the way." Raiko did as he asked, sliding into the co-pilot seat as the cockpit slid shut. Within moments, they were in the air, speeding towards space and uncertainty with the rest of the Jedi fleet.

Raiko busied herself with the controls – ignoring her growing fear.

* * *

They split from the bulk of the Jedi – Mace leading them through the catacombs of the place and up through the winding stairs – until they were behind the very seats of the amphitheatre.

The heaviness of the Force was prickling her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she shadowed Windu through the winding corridors. Windu may as well have been a statue; his emotions were so still, to the point that she couldn't feel a thing from him. It was unsettling but overshadowed by the fear she could still feel thrumming through Anakin and Obi-Wan's Force links, and the darkness from beyond. She was sweltering too, sweat running down her temples and down her back as the heat of Geonosis pounded unforgivingly on her body.

Windu held up a hand, and she stopped automatically, body reacting before her mind did. From where she stood, she could see the backs of the people standing on the balcony above the arena. Routinely, her eyes went to the head of the Count, and the fierce knot of emotion tangled there, too snarled and dark for her to attempt to unravel. She flinched away from it, literally, twitching backwards. Windu caught her eyes and gave her a long look.

_You can still leave._ His eyes said, and they held no condemnation.

Raiko, on edge and fingers twitching around the handle of her saber, shook her head jerkily. _She couldn't leave. Not now. Not when they were in danger._ Windu gave her another look, face unreadable this time. But then he nodded towards the bounty-hunter, shining in his silver and blue armour and looking resplendent and strong, and entirely out of place against the yellows and browns of the desert planet. She nodded again, and crept forwards with the other Jedi, clutching the hilt of her lightsaber tightly. She could feel her pearl, her heart, thrumming through the cool metal.

_Yes, this was her weapon. She had no doubts about it. _

Stepping into the sun took more courage than Raiko realised, but she masked her sudden flash of fear by igniting her lightsaber, and angling the blade across the throat of the bounty-hunter, moving in one swift movement that made the faceless man start, hand leaping for his blaster before he realised his position. Below, on the ground, she could see Anakin, Padme and Obi-Wan, surrounded by the droids.

Dooku's slow drawl made bile rise in her throat, the languid amusement in his voice sickening. "Master Windu." She could feel his eyes on her, and summoning the bright spot of defiant energy she knew had been fostered by Anakin, turned her head to meet his gaze full on. A little smirk curled his lips as he took his sweet time looking her over. She felt her skin crawl under his eyes. "And a little Padawan." The dismissive tone made her bristle, and without breaking eyecontact, edged the blade a little closer to Jango's throat. It made him lean back slightly. Dooku raised an eyebrow in slight interest, but seemed to ultimately decide she was worthless, turning his gaze from her, "How pleasant of you to join us." He said coolly, inching closer.

"This party's over." His words were light, but Raiko had never heard Windu's voice so dark. As if on cue – and perhaps it was – the Jedi that had assembled around the arena ignited their lightsabers.

"Brave, but foolish, my old Jedi friend." Dooku was smiling that derisive smile again, looking two shades too amused to look contrite. "You're impossibly outnumbered."

"I don't think so." Windu smiled slightly, keeping his stare with the Count.

Raiko's hearing caught the edge of metal on stone, an endless marching from behind them. "We'll see." Dooku's low voice was enough to spur her into action, spinning away from Fett to bring her lightsaber up in front of herself defensively. Windu's own lightsaber, a bright column of violet plasma the same shade as her eyes, sprung to life beside her.

They saw the blaster bolts before they saw the droids attacking them. Deflecting them was easy enough, but it didn't take long for her to realise they were in real danger. A flare of orange from beside her was all the warning she had before flames exploded over where she had been standing. Her heart skipped a frightened beat at the sudden fire in her vision, the heat searing in a painfully familiar way – making her jump blindly – trying to get away from the fear. Perched on the lip of the balcony where she jumped to, Raiko met Dooku's eyes again. His gaze was on her lightsaber, and she clutched it tighter, and fell backwards, trusting in herself.

Free-fall was always scary – but channelling her inner tooka, she hoped she would land on her feet.

* * *

On the ground, it was already chaos.

There was no time for her to take stock of her surroundings – or even rise from the crouch she had landed in, as blaster fire continued to pour from all directions – more of the awkward looking robots filing into the pit. Raiko kept her saber close to her body, going through the motions of soresu, the most defensive of the saber forms. She had taken lessons in Form III from the master of it within the temple – Luminara Unduli herself – so even as her arms ached from being kept so confined, not used to the tight technique, she didn't falter, gaining her footing. The bug-like Geonosins left in a swirling cloud, leaving the stands bare – more and more Jedi joining them on the field. But the droids were endless. As they approached, Raiko began to transition into the offensive. She could feel the Force now, gathering around her, lending her grace and strength.

It was the blast from a plasma cannon that disrupted – sending her flying without warning.

The sensation of being battered by shockwaves wasn't new to her, but it didn't stop the pain of colliding with the ground. She groaned, propping herself up on one hand. Blinking wearily, her eyes fell upon a fallen figure. Her stomach lurched at the unseeing eyes of one of her old kata teachers, half-pinned beneath a chunk of rubble, dead.

_"Rai!"_

The call of name dragged her eyes away – to see Anakin, running towards her, and a group of droids getting closer. With a lurch, she flipped off the ground, somersaulting over the tops of the droids as Anakin swept his saber out in a wide arc, slicing straight through their spindly torsos. She landed as they fell behind her, swaying in spot. He grasped her hand. "What happened? I thought you had…" he shook his head, and Raiko realised that he would have felt the block as well as she had. But she didn't think to explain.

"Don't '_what happened'_ me! You're the one who blasted ten-thousand volts of white-hot _hate_ through!" Raiko shouted at him angrily, spinning neatly under a laser and stabbing the droid through the chest. "What happened to you?"

Anakin's face contorted, and he clenched his fists, crumpling a droid near them into scrap metal. "My mother." He choked out, barely audible over the battle. "She _died_, Raiko. She was murdered."

Raiko felt her stomach drop, and she bit her lip, moving closer to him to press a quick hand to his cheek. "I'm sorry." She said softly, hoping he could hear her. He didn't say anything, whirling away from in an arc of green and brown, engaging the droids encroaching on their position. Raiko let him go, turning to defend her own flank as the droids marched ever closer.

But it didn't seem to matter how hard she pressed, as she found herself backing up, further and further into the centre of the pit. Gritting her teeth, she spun in a tight arc – more a dance step than any true defensive move, lightsaber dancing around herself in a dizzying array of white.

The sudden flare of energy in her periphery made her still, dropping automatically as a blue saber flashed near her, cutting down a droid right where her head would have been. Rolling back to her feet, she met Obi-Wan's eyes. "I'm glad you're alive." She said shortly, making him smile at the bizarreness of her statement.

"Hopefully it stays that way." He grinned back, all teeth, no joy. Mace joined them then, and Raiko moved into a defensive stance again, matching the defensive styles of the two other Jedi. She could feel her Force awareness stretching over the three of them, each of them attuned to the others movements as they fought in their triangular position, offering strength and defensive in equal measure; Raiko destroying an approaching droid that was heading towards Mace's exposed side, as Obi-Wan Force pushed another away from her back.

Raiko was getting tired, sweat slicking her temples, and making her grip slippery around her saber hilt, muscles screaming for a break, nerves on edge from constant vigilance. She could feel the creeping hopelessness starting to bleed from Obi-Wan, weighing on her even more. She grunted, bowing back into Obi-Wan, and leaning on his body to avoid the blasts of a droid. He moved with her, a tree in the wind, easing them both up again, and providing her with momentum to leap at the droid. The jump exhausted her further, and around her, she could see Jedi falling.

The charging rhino-alien startled her, and she was barely able to leap out of the way, crying out involuntarily as its horn clipped her side. She fell heavily again, jarring her already bruised body. Breathing heavily, she could feel her ribs shift. Unfortunately, she was well acquainted with broken ribs – but luckily, it just seemed like a fracture. Winded, she sucked in shallow breaths, trying to will her body to stand. For a moment, her vision went hazy, and she lay very still willing herself to stay conscious.

_Come on. You're a Jedi. Stand up and fight._

_STAND UP AND FIGHT_.

With a bellowing groan, Raiko got to her feet, kicking out and striking a droid sharply. The connection hurt her foot, but it fell – her kick strengthened by the Force. She could feel it, still around her, guiding her. She let it take her, bending and dancing with it – raising her lightsaber again and again and again, droids falling before her again and again and again – and yet still more appeared.

Further and further she danced, moving back three steps for every one she took forwards, until she was stumbling over the bodies of her fallen brethren. The collective energies around her were worryingly few, and the overwhelming note of horror and desperation was enough to make her falter, falling into the last standing circle of Jedi.

She could feel only fifteen other lives with her, Padmé's own weaker Force signature still thrumming, however faint. She felt sick. They had lost so many. The ripples of sorrow were already spreading, and she knew she would feel them keenly if she survived. But survival was no longer a sure thing.

Then – the laser fire stopped, as the droids lowered their weapons. Raiko's last swing kept moving automatically, and she halted, lightsaber above her head, but too afraid to move. She could see Obi-Wan out of the corner of her eyes, feel his dread as he checked the pulse of a fallen master beside her. She didn't dare offer comfort, not even sure if she could muster any to give.

"Master Windu!" The Count's voice echoed impressively around the stadium. "You have fought gallantly, worthy of recognition in the history archives of the Jedi Order. Now it is finished." Raiko lowered her head, arms wobbling and dropping, as she panted. Her master, along with two other captured Jedi were led into their circle. She couldn't bring herself to look over to him. "Surrender – and your lives will be spared." Dooku offered, almost kindly. Raiko's eyes had landed on the face of the corpse next to her. She recognized him. He had been a library assistant. Kind. Not deserving of a death like this.

Even if her body was screaming for her to stand down, every sense in her body telling her to end it – she knew, deep in her heart, that she could not surrender. Not like this. Not to this… evil man. Mace – it seemed – shared her resolution. "We will not be slaves for you to bargain with, Dooku." He said defiantly. Raiko hoped her Master forgave her. She hoped she could find Obi-Wan and Anakin in the next world. She hoped the Force would guide her, one last time.

"Then, I'm sorry, old friend. You will have to be destroyed." Dooku's voice was remorseful, but Raiko couldn't feel a scrap of regret in the web of dark emotions emanating from the man. He raised his arm, and Raiko raised her saber again – because even if she was going to die, she would die fighting. She would die a knight.

Then – from the sky – salvation.


	10. Chapter 9

"Around the survivors, a perimeter, create!" Master Yoda looked into his visor as he spoke, wrinkled face appearing even more lined in his worry.

CC-8047 relayed the order quickly, casting his eyes to the ground as their gunship began the descent. There were so few lightsabers on the sand, and too many bodies. He frowned beneath his helmet, worry filling him at the sight of so many droids. Of course – this was what he had been created to do – and his body responded despite his concern.

CC-8047 jumped the last few feet from the gunship, raising his blaster as he went – already locked on target and firing as he stood. The troops filed out behind him, and he raised an arm quickly. "Get straight to the Jedi – herd them if you have to, boys, but get them back on the transports!" he barked. The answering affirmative was loud, perhaps fuelled by the adrenaline coursing through them all. The Jedi were still fighting – despite the palpable exhaustion on their faces and bodies. Despite it – they were still the best weapons on the sand – and CC-8047 watched in awe as two Jedi moved in delicate arcs, destroying a group of droids in unison.

It became apparent very quickly that they were not enough – and CC-8047 began to see the first of his troop casualties. The sand was red, more orange than true scarlet – but it still looked like blood as it smeared the shining white of his fallen brothers' armour. He kept his focus on the droids, doggedly forcing his spearhead to curl around the circle of Jedi. _Form the perimeter. _

He knew he had CT-8009 on the ground, moving the other spearhead of troops opposite him. He could at least count on his brother's own stubbornness to meet up with him in the middle. The newly minted Corporal had always been hard-headed, and it always showed best in a firefight, when the only was forward was to push until you couldn't anymore.

It soon became apparent that a few of the Jedi had decided to dig in their feet – and CC-8047 cursed into the mic. "_Fekkin' _Jedi! Can't they see we're on a rescue mission?"

"_What do we do, Captain?" _the answering voice came quickly, and he chewed at his bottom lip, methodically taking down a group of tinnies as he thought it through.

"Brute force if we have to." He said finally. "Just get between them and the clankers and start shoving them back. We don't have time for pleases and thank you's." he said, and there was another call for the affirmative as he and a few others started to make their way towards the few Jedi still standing.

It took him a second to realise that the glittering white display of light was from a lightsaber – the Jedi wielding it moving quicker than the others around them, blurring the saber. He'd never seen anything like it – but then again, he'd never seen much of anything before. He didn't have time to be amazed at the prowess of the person behind the dazzling weapon – more irritated with their refusal to move back than anything. He shouldered his way through a group of droids, firing at the approaching group before the Jedi could take them out. It made the small figure turn to look at him.

CC-8047 was known for being rational, and calm, maybe even a little cold. The beat that his heart skipped when he made eye contact with the Arcturian female in the middle of an all out dog-fight was highly unusual – although to him, seeing a pretty woman _was_ highly unusual.

She was bleeding, green blood covering half of her face in an ugly mask, from a wound at her temple, and she was favouring her left side. Still – she moved with a lethal grace. CC-8047 gave himself a mental shake. _Now was not the time to be starstruck._

He switched on his external mic, and yelled at her instead. "Miss – would you get on a transport?!"

She flinched, blinking at him in surprise. Then her face grew sheepish. "Oh. Sorry. Yes, sir!" he remembered very suddenly, with a flood of embarrassment, that any Jedi technically outranked him – and that a GAR General had just called him sir, and he had just called her miss. He had no time to dwell on it as she began to walk backwards, keeping her saber up, and deflecting lasers as she went. It took him a second to realise she was defending _him_ – not moving past him, and not letting any bolts past her.

He frowned in bemusement, and turned to call back his troops. Behind him, he could hear the engine of a transport ship, and relief flooded his system.

Then, several things happened at once.

The transport ship landed behind them – the pilot screaming for immediate evacuation as heavy artillery threatened to overrun them. He jumped aboard, lifting his blaster to cover his troops' retreat. Then, with a cry, CT-8009 dropped as a blaster bolt hit him in the shoulder. The Jedi – letting out a visible gasp, darted for him. _And the Jedi wasn't running, wasn't retreating-_ instead, she had stooped beside his brother, and he watched with wide eyes as she lifted him with an impossible strength. Her lightsaber was gone, the brilliant blade retracted, and yet she carried him, leaving herself exposed.

Panicked, CC-8047 dropped his blaster as she turned to the transport, the ship lifting from the ground. His own desperation was mirrored on her face as she threw his brother towards the ship. Hands that were not his own grasped his brother – but he reached out, for her, as with another impossible display of agility, she jumped for the rising transport.

His gloved hand grasped hers, catching her tiny wrist in his grip.

Dangling, she yowled – body jolting as a blaster bolt caught her somewhere. She was slipping, her sweat slicking his grasp, and he lurched for her desperately. With a heave that took all of his strength, he pulled her up and onboard, the momentum of his tug sending them sprawling – her slight form on top of his.

He didn't have a second to feel embarrassed about it as she rolled off him with a hiss, hands going to grasp at her leg. The blaster wound was sizzling slightly, from where it had entered her calf muscle. He winced in sympathy, sending a look over to CT-8009. His brother was groaning, thrashing as the medics held him down. When he turned back to the Jedi, she had quieted, eyes fixed on his brother.

"Is he going to be okay?" her voice was hoarse, but sincere. He blinked at her in surprise, thankful she couldn't see his face.

"He'll be fine, sir." He said, remembering her rank. She looked at him, and he was struck with the intensity of her purple irises. "But we should take a look at your leg." That drew her attention away from him, and back to her wound, letting out a faint whimper as she prodded at the flesh.

The clacking of the wizened Jedi's cane drew both their attention, as CC-8047 rooted through his battlefield med-kit. "Injured, and lucky, you are." The Jedi was almost smiling as he looked at the woman, "Relieved I am, to see you alive, Padawan Omari."

He blanched. _Padawan_? She was only a Jedi _student_. He stared at her in wonder for a moment, before her head started to turn back to him, quickly dropping his gaze back to the med-kit.

* * *

Raiko felt like she'd just gone three rounds with a meat grinder – and the constant emotional flip-flop wasn't doing her any favours. She couldn't bring herself to regret her decision to save the soldier, even if she had received her own injury in the process. What was one blaster wound, when she was already covered in bruises, breaks and blood. Nothing – when it meant a life was saved.

The soldier that had yelled at her, and then saved her life was focussed on her still – she could feel his eyes and his attention centred on her. She knew it was probably out of frustration – due to her stupidity in the pit and then him almost falling out of a ship to save her sorry ass. A touch to her calf made her jump violently, hissing in pain as the sudden movement jolted her ribs.

"Sorry!" the soldier apologised quickly, gently, hand flattening and stroking lightly on her shin as if soothing a frightened animal. She stilled under his touch, and he slowly removed his hand, as if realising what he was doing. He ducked his head, and was silent as he tended quickly to his wound. Closing her eyes to distract herself, Raiko probed at her connection to her Master and to Obi-Wan, unsure how to get around her block with Anakin.

It took a push – and a wave of dizziness fell over her – as she knocked past the emotional blockade between them. The sudden flare of awareness was enough to rouse her, as a sharp flash of distress made her sit up straight. The despair was echoed in Obi-Wan, and she looked to Yoda, who was watching her carefully. "Master – Anakin, he just – I think something's happened. To the senator. But…" the distress faded into surly determination, and she frowned. "he's left her."

Their gunship began to descend again, and Raiko was aware of the rising sound of another skirmish. Yoda was frowning. "Following something, they must be. With speed, I sense them moving."

Raiko twitched, startling the trooper who was still hovering over her. "Dooku." She breathed, meeting Yoda's eyes as he nodded, reaching the same conclusion. "Master – let me take a speeder, I can find them. They're going to need help." She stood, filing off the ship with the Jedi Master and the troops she had gotten on with. The soldier she had saved was carried past them on a stretcher. Raiko was relieved to feel a faint pulse of life from him still.

Yoda's face was grim. "Very well. A speeder you will take, and your saviour if he is agreeable. With haste, you must go."

Raiko was already turning to the lingering trooper.

* * *

He flushed at her attention again.

His position was supposed to be on the field. He was a Captain – he couldn't abandon his men – and yet, as she raised a hand to him, stained with the blood of his brother and the red dirt of the planet – he knew he couldn't leave this fragile looking woman who contained the power of a warrior within her unassuming face.

He was nodding before he had even considered fully what he was agreeing to, as a cycle-speeder was brought over to them. The Jedi was already swinging her body over the machine impatiently, and he got up behind her, suddenly aware of every place their bodies came into contact, burning hot through his armour. Then she was turning her head around to look at him, eyes boring into his visor as if she could see him. "I can't, um, drive." She admitted, smiling the same sheepish smile that he recognized as symbol of her age. She was younger than she looked, younger than she seemed on the battlefield.

"Just tell me where to go." He said, leaning over and caging her in as he reached the handlebars. She shrank down slightly, nodding and turning to the front as he powered the speeder up.

"Head north!" she yelled over the noise, and he nodded, revving the engine and speeding off.


	11. Chapter 10

It was nerve-wracking – unable to properly see where she was going, the sand and wind blasting her in the face. She kept her eyes closed, holding onto the connection with both men as they grew stronger. She just had to trust the man with his hands on the controls.

She realised after a while, that she had stopped attempting to yell back directions – but it hadn't hindered them, as whenever she would edge herself in a new direction; a tilt of her head, a turn of her torso – he would respond accordingly. It was relieving. She was still tired, still in pain – but as Obi-Wan and Anakin's Force signatures got stronger, relief tempered some of her discomfort.

"I think we're here, sir." The soldier touched her gently on the shoulder, and she jolted, eyes opening quickly. They were situated about ten feet away from a massive clay-based structure. She stared at it – realising that the pit in her stomach was fear. "Did – do you want me to go first?" his voice was gentle, as if he was trying not to scare her. She fought the absurd urge to laugh hysterically – because _yes_, she did actually want _some_ security, because she could feel Obi-Wan's nervousness, and Anakin's impulsiveness starting to take root in her chest – and over them all, a darkness from who she could only assume was the Count himself.

But she knew she couldn't be afraid.

She didn't have her Master with her to protect her, nor Obi-Wan's guidance, or Anakin's encouragement. What she did have was her soldier, who was emanating a deep earnestness and a willingness to help, tempered with uncertainty – and the element of surprise.

"No." she said finally, and slid off the bike to join him on the ground. He was a lot taller than her, broader too – built like a warrior. She wondered how much of him had been genetically influenced. He felt… _solid._ His emotional signature reminded her a lot of a Jedi's – calm and still, with suggestions of deeper feeling. It was soothing. She looked into that dark visor again, as if she could see his eyes. The blankness of the mask _was_ unsettling, but the least of her worries. "Do you trust me?"

The pang of surprise from him was expected. His reply was not;

"Yes."

* * *

It was as if he was waiting for them.

Obi-Wan slowed himself, warning flaring in his mind. Dooku didn't even look worried, even with the prospect of facing two Jedi.

Anakin, as unwary as ever – didn't seem to notice it. "You're going to pay for all the Jedi you killed today, Dooku." He said lowly. Obi-Wan could feel his anger, feel his despair. It was making him impulsive, his fingers twitching around his saber handle, pacing restlessly.

Obi-Wan pushed calm at him, as much as he could muster. He had never been any good at it. That had always been Raiko – the one to calm them both, whether she did it consciously or not. He could control his own emotional to an extent, but Force empathy was something he lacked. "We'll take him together." He murmured to his Padawan, keeping one eye on Dooku, and the other on Anakin. "You go in slowly on the left-"

Anakin was already in motion, "I'm taking him now!" he growled, sprinting towards the Count with reckless abandon.

"NO – ANAKIN, NO!" Obi-Wan yelled after him uselessly, stomach dropping at the lightning that appeared from Dooku's fingertips – physical evidence of his dark power. Obi-Wan had only ever heard about that kind of energy in the ghost stories of the Sith that he had been entertained with as a child. He felt a chill rise up his spine. Anakin crashed into the wall, and slumped – still.

Swallowing thickly, Obi-Wan turned his gaze to Dooku, holding his saber aloft as the Count took a step towards him. "As you see, my Jedi powers are far beyond yours." He raised his hand. "Now, back down." This time, Obi-Wan was ready for the lightning, and blocked it with his saber. The blue beam of plasma crackled uncomfortably, but absorbed the energy.

"I don't think so." He said coolly, trying to maintain his outwards calm.

Without ceremony, Dooku ignited his own lightsaber, the red beam startling in the semi-darkness. Obi-Wan swung first, and Dooku met his every jab with an answering swing. Obi-Wan could feel the strength behind his blows, and moved away as the Count neatly avoided his feint. He was spryer than he should have been at his age, no doubt sustained by the darkness he fed off. "Master Kenobi, you disappoint me. Yoda holds you in such high esteem." Dooku said delicately, needling at his focus. Dooku engaged him again, and Obi-Wan went on the defensive. Their blades met continuously in a myriad of colour and orange light. "Surely you can do _better!_" Dooku spat, smiling savagely.

Obi-Wan didn't rise to the bait – at least, he tried not to. The Count's energy was startlingly heavy, equal parts intimidating and infuriating – spurring him to swing harder, leap faster. It was only as turned, reversing their positions – now facing the way he had come in – that he noticed the flash of white, and the flicker of purple. The momentary distraction cost him, as Dooku flicked his saber out from their crossed positions, and whip-quick, sliced through the flesh of his arm, and then leg as he stumbled – sending him falling to the ground with a cry. It _burned_, there was no ache from the blow, just a radiating hot pain, as his wounds smoked. Obi-Wan felt hopelessness settle low in his gut as Dooku's red saber flashed into his vision.

And then – brilliant white, pure and bright, swept over him like a flash of supernova. Raiko stood over him, blade locked with Dooku's, her face fierce, even as her arms trembled under the strain of holding back Dooku's downwards swing. For a moment, Dooku looked amused, as Raiko was forced to her knees over him, as Dooku bore down on her with all his strength. But then, she smiled. "NOW!" her cry made the Count frown, but then bolts of blue laser fire came from the shadows, and an armoured trooper appeared, seemingly out of nowhere as he ambushed the Count. The Count gave a strangled yell, pitching forwards as a shot entered his shoulder.

By the time Dooku had brought up his saber to defend himself, Raiko was already moving, rolling Obi-Wan out of the way slightly and standing. He hissed in pain, and she sent a flare of apology, eyes not even straying to him. The trooper was bold, keeping his position, even as Dooku advanced on him, stray bolts deflecting into the walls and ceiling.

But Raiko was there again, striking out at Dooku and forcing him to turn and defend her assault. In tag-team style, Raiko and the trooper backed Dooku away from Obi-Wan and kept him distracted. Raiko was smiling slightly – and Obi-Wan could feel her victoriousness through their bond, her projection radiating out of her. Perhaps it was her mistake to grow over-confident, because as Dooku backed up another step, he snarled, anger growing over his face, and he lashed out with one hand.

The flash of lighting that he sent towards the essentially defenceless clone was enough to throw the man across the room – like a child throwing a toy in a tantrum. His collision with the wall was hard enough to crack the clay underneath him, and Obi-Wan watched as he slumped over, like a puppet with his strings cut. Raiko's flash of panic made him look back to her, struggling to get upright as Dooku bore down on her with everything he had, lightning and red saber working in tandem.

Raiko was good – perhaps the best novice saber fighter the Order had seen in a long time – but even she was no match to a fully-grown dark Jedi, fuelled by the anger of losing. And she couldn't defend against the Force – and with a smirk, Dooku sent her flying head over heels with a great Force push. She landed in a crouch, but by the time she had lifted her head, Dooku had forced the saber from her hand, and was advancing on her, pinning her to the ground. Grunting, she wiggled hopelessly, and her lightsaber twitched from where it lay across the hangar. Standing over her, Dooku smiled slightly. "It's a shame… you could have made a great knight." The lightning crackled out of his fingers again, making Raiko arch and keen – before falling limp. Obi-Wan could feel the sudden loss of her consciousness, and tried to push himself up with his good arm as Dooku fisted his hand into her hair, dragging her body towards where he lay, her face dragging painfully along the rocky ground, scraping her skin. "Don't bother, Kenobi. The end is inevitable." He lay her alongside him, her head level with his, with all the care of an executioner. As he raised his saber again, Obi-Wan realised that was exactly what he was.

Once again – his death was delayed, as Anakin's furious cry distracted the Count. This time, Obi-Wan was ready, and called his borrowed saber towards him, throwing it to his apprentice, who caught it neatly. Obi-Wan didn't have the time to dwell on how Anakin's anger had seemed to focus to a coldness that was oddly similar to finding peace, but twisted in a dark parody of the Jedi practice – as the pair of them engaged. Raiko groaned his name from beside him, and he looked to her, at the long cuts along her face, already bleeding with fat drops of her green blood. She looked like something out of a horror-holo.

When her eyes opened though, her eyes barely touched on his face, and she struggled to sit up, turning to look at the trooper who was still sitting motionless. Gritting her teeth, she began to crawl towards him. "What are you doing?" Obi-Wan hissed at her, reaching helplessly for her ankle, unable to stop her as she tugged herself out of his grasp.

Across the room, Anakin and Dooku battled on.

* * *

A hand on the skin of his neck, from where his helmet had slipped slightly, dislodged from its collision with the wall, made him stir slightly. He'd been on the verge of unconsciousness since the Sith had thrown him. He was bleeding, from where his armour had cracked, cutting his skin. He could feel in on the back of his neck, right where the fingers were.

He was seeing double – pain and what he suspected was a concussion, making his vision blurry. But there was no mistaking the bright eyes that were blinking at him, even if most of the Padawan's face appeared to be covered in blood. It took him a moment to realise she was speaking, his helmet's speaker feed crackling weakly. It took him longer than it should have to process her words, and the effort to do so was making him even more tired.

"_-laster. I need your blaster."_

She was desperate, voice hoarse. It spurred him to move, to _stay awake_. If he was going to die – her could at least try and make sure it counted for something. And a large part of him, for whatever reason, couldn't seem to stomach the thought of her dying too. He reached for his DC, from where it had fallen from his grasp. She was quicker than him, pouncing on it, and turning with it. Her arms were shaking as she raised the blaster, and the whine of it seemed so far away. He closed his eyes briefly, his world feeling like it was tilting crazily.

When he opened them again, he was further down the wall – but for some reason, his neck and back muscles weren't working to pick himself up. The weight on him was different too – and it was only after he realised that the purple obscuring most of his vision was hair, did he realise he was being pinned by the Jedi's body on his.

She was breathing shallowly, eyes closed. The blaster was shattered beside her, and her hands were bleeding – probably from the force of whatever had torn it apart. It was the growing green stain on her torso that made him panic, and he rolled her, sliding the last few inches to lay beside her as the last of his strength gave out. Her eyes were open again, wide and terrified against the mess of her face. They were dimming slowly, and he reached out weakly – not really sure what to do, how to comfort her. Above them, above the fallen bodies of her Jedi friends, the ceiling was moving, falling, a pillar bending – the world coming apart at the seams under the Force.

CC-8047 knew they were dying, even though she was an untouchable Jedi. Somehow, they were dying together.

He felt a stab of frustration suddenly, an exasperation; because this was how he was supposed to go. He was _supposed_ to die in battle, that was his purpose, he was just another body. But not her. Never her. The Jedi weren't supposed to fall. That made him grip her fingers, which were inbetween them – because he needed to tell her, tell her to _get up and keep living_-

She was speaking again, voice a whisper. _"I'm sorry." _He didn't have the energy to respond. Then she smiled. "Clay. You're covered in it."

They both were, shades of red and green from the earth and her blood.

_Clay_.

Clay gripped her hand a little tighter as her eyes closed, feeling the last of his strength fade. In the distance, he could hear the familiar sounds of armoured footsteps, his brothers' voices, and the click-clack of the wizened Jedi's cane.

The world faded around him.


	12. Chapter 11

She barely recognized the woman in the mirror now.

It was strange, to see herself without her padawan braid. When she'd cut it off, she'd cut her hair too – it was shorter now, just brushing her shoulders.

She looked… haunted. It was in the eyes, she thought, they looked older and more than a little wary. But then – she had grown in the past few months, faster than she thought she could have.

She didn't have the luxury of enjoying her childhood anymore. Now, she had to be an adult. Because the war had started, and a war needed soldiers. It needed leaders – and somehow, her lightsaber and meagre knowledge of the Force meant that she had the capability to be. It was times like these, the contemplative moments, that Raiko missed her Master more than anything. But he was already on the front lines, and she was soon to follow.

Standing, she brushed down her new kit, the dark leather more comfortable than her old robes. It was more armour than anything – a slightly less obvious sign of her shift in position. The pants were a welcome change, as was the more form fitting bodice and sleeves. She felt freer. And with her saber by her side – hopefully she looked a little more intimidating.

She was meeting the leaders of her battalion today.

She, a nineteen-year-old Arcturian, was about to be put in charge of about 600 men, and then jet straight off into the war. And to say she was terrified was an understatement. She hadn't slept, and had instead tried to meditate. She had failed.

And now, as dawn broke, she knew that she had to face that fear.

Absently, she reached for Obi-Wan and Anakin. They were both distracted, emotions distant. At least they were still alive. Being knighted within days of each other should have been cause for celebration – but neither her nor Anakin had felt any inclination to do so. He and Obi-Wan along with their own legion and battalion respectively had been sent to the front lines already - neck deep in the fight for the Republic's freedom. And that was where she and her battalion were headed. Straight to war.

Speaking of – she was getting close to being late.

* * *

Clay listened idly to his brother's chatter over the comms.

The 313th Attack Battalion were already onboard, but Stix had insisted that they wait for their General outside the ship in order to 'establish a firm sense of leadership and respect.' Jest had laughed at him, but Clay had indulged his worrisome brother. Since being promoted to Lieutenant, Stix – or CC-4663 – had made it his personal mission to eat, sleep and breathe regulation manuals. They all dealt with stress differently.

Clay had been lucky.

Out of their six-man training squad, three of them had ended up together. Him, Stix and Jest had been assigned to the 313th. And, if he remembered correctly, Tidd – CT-8009 – and Viz – CT-5823 – were a part of the 501st, which he was sure they'd serve with - given that they were a similar attack infantry. It would almost be a full reunion if they linked up with the 501st. Their youngest brother, CT-9967-32, was serving as a specialist pilot under another unit. They hadn't heard from him since they had been shipped out.

Now – if they could just be assigned a General that would be easy to work with, then their first mission was looking all the way up.

"_Cap!_ _I think that's our guy – or, uh…"_

_"Girl?"_

Jest and their other sergeant – a clone calling himself Jive – spoke almost at once. Clay turned, to where the pair of them were looking, and felt his insides do a funny little dance. Stix snapped to immediate attention, barking a command to the other two clones to follow suit, which they did – Clay's body responding automatically to the tone, even as his brain still ticked over at half its speed.

The last time he had seen Raiko Omari, the then-padawan had been bleeding out on Geonosis.

Now she appeared like a vision – lit by the rising sun, eyes wide and shining with the same vigour that had captivated him on the Geonosis sand. She smiled as she approached, eyes going to his visor.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, soldier." Her voice was light, teasing. Clay went hot under his helmet, as all three men beside him turned to look at him, dropping their salutes.

"_What does that mean, sir?" _Stix asked nervously. "_Did you commit an infraction-?"_

"I- we- she's the Jedi I fought Dooku with." Clay stuttered into the comms. He was used to a certain order, liked things to be uncomplicated. Feeling so off-balance wasn't pleasant. He switched on his external mic hastily. "Likewise, General." He said shortly. Perhaps _too_ shortly, as her smile dimmed some. He cleared his throat. "Allow me to introduce your commanding officers."

Jest stepped forwards. Clay could practically picture his grin as he gave the woman a slight up-and-down, barely perceptible under his helmet. "Everyone calls me Jest, General, I'm one of your sergeants – the better one, if you were curious."

She laughed, and shook his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Jest." She turned to Jive, eyes going to his armour markings. "I'm guessing you're my other sergeant, trooper?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jive inclined his head. "Jive, ma'am. And I can assure you that _I'm_ the better officer." Stix muttered something about professionalism over the comms, and Jives quietened.

She hummed. "Jest and Jive." She repeated to herself, turning to Stix. Clay fought a laugh at his brother's sudden panicked intake of air and his immediate stiffening of posture as he snapped a sharp salute again. "At ease, soldier." She said, sounding faintly amused.

It was like watching a statute come to life as Stix awkwardly relaxed into parade rest, hands fluttered awkwardly until he clasped them behind his back. "Lieutenant CC-4663, sir!" He said quickly. Raiko tilted her head slightly, reminiscent of a curious animal. Her face was unreadable. Clay felt a surge of protectiveness for his brother. If she was harsh with him – or made fun of him like Clay had seen others do, then he'd… well, he didn't know what he'd do – but it wouldn't be regulation, that was for sure.

"Do you have a nickname too, Lieutenant?" she asked, softly. Clay relaxed slightly, even as Stix floundered over the inner com channel.

Finally, he nodded reluctantly. "Stix, sir." He said quietly, slightly defeatedly.

Raiko's smile was noticeably more gentle. "I'm sure there's a lovely story behind that, Lieutenant Stix."

Jest barked a laugh. "We call him Stix because he's got a stick up his- uh, you know what, General." Clay sighed.

Raiko, to her credit, didn't say anything, just smiled again. "Well, I'm glad you're onboard then, Stix – because Force knows I need someone to keep me in line." Jest laughed again, and she grinned in satisfaction. She turned to Clay then, and he straightened under her gaze again. "Captain. What do I call you?" her eyes were intense again. Clay was dreading the time he'd have to face her without his helmet as a barrier between them. Perhaps he could convince her it was welded to him.

"Clay." He said finally.

Her face stilled, and Clay shivered as a faint _touch_ of something danced over his skin. "_Clay_." She repeated in a whisper.

Her words rang between them.

_"I'm sorry." The world fading, and the dim edge of a smile;_ _"Clay. You're covered in it."_

For a moment they just stared at each other – two beings on the edge of something bigger than both of them, moulded from the same trauma.

And then the moment was broken, and they were going aboard, and he stood beside her as she addressed her men for the first time. He understood the way they were watching her every move. He'd never seen anything so bright before either.

She was blinding – but in that moment he couldn't help but stare.


End file.
